


Meditations on a Crimson Shadow; A Garak and Bashir Mystery

by LaDemonessa



Series: The Garak/Bashir Mysteries [4]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, M/M, The Garak/Bashir Mysteries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 131,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1944033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDemonessa/pseuds/LaDemonessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Story Four (officially) in the Garak and Bashir Mysteries. This <br/>is an AU take on DS9 following Season five. After returning from a <br/>Jem'Hadar prison camp and regaining his identity from the Founder, <br/>Julian is dealt another stunning blow when Admiral Ross has Sisko place <br/>him on a six month mandatory suspension due to the fact his genetic <br/>enhancements have been made public. He has no where to go except to <br/>Bajor where he has to deal with his relationship with Garak once and for <br/>all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conversations in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> The other Garak and Bashir Mysteries are:
> 
> 1\. The Cheap Date  
> 2\. Sinless  
> 3\. The Never Ending Sacrifice written by myself and Charlene Vickers
> 
> Two other short stories have been written within the G/B Mysteries universe:
> 
> 1\. Kal-toh; Seeds of Order, which is a prequel  
> 2\. The Red Uniform, which is a possible look several years down the road   
> written by myself and Charlene Vickers
> 
> Author's Notes: I offered Charlene a co-author credit for the incredible   
> job she did editing this, but she turned me down out of modesty. She is   
> an incredible friend, muse, and writing partner so first thanks, as   
> always, goes to her. I did incorporate Stephen's color challenges (You   
> look good in Red, It's Green, Blue Christmas, and The Golden Rule) into   
> this but I missed the deadline. Garak was being a pain in the ass. As   
> usual. So, then I added his January challenges: Figure Eight with a pond   
> (check), Knew That (check), Electoral College; aka voting and riots   
> (check), Seek Out; aka the adaptation of the classic trek monologue   
> (check), and the use of Jake Sisko as one of the main characters   
> (check).I did not shoot any captains but I did beat the shit out of a   
> commander if that helps. They're all there along with some good old   
> hetsmut just for you, so happy hunting Stephen. Rosha, it was down to   
> the wire but you got your wish granted as well. I also placed a nod to a   
> Greywolf written TSU in this, so see if you can spot it. Like I said,   
> I'd like to dedicate this to Charlene who is the world's best beta and a   
> very good friend, and to Jonah, Michelle, and all the children who enter   
> and exit this world fighting. Only those of us who have seen how   
> difficult that struggle for life can be by experiencing firsthand its   
> triumphs and tragedies understand how truly miraculous it is.

Meditations on a Crimson Shadow; A Garak and Bashir Mystery

By JA Ingram

 

 

Once my lover, now my friend  
What a cruel thing to pretend  
What a cunning way to condescend  
Once my lover but now my friend

****

But, oh, it's so evil, my love,  
The way you've no reverence to my concern.  
So, I'll be sure to stay wary of you, love,  
To save the pain of once my flame and twice my burn.

 

Fiona Apple, "Shadow Boxer"

 

CHAPTER ONE: Conversations in Hell

 

"Garak's coming..." the old man said as he tossed and turned in his   
bunk. "He's coming...he has to come..."

"Tain," Julian said in a low voice, "can you hear me? I need to ask you   
some questions." He rested his hand on the Cardassian's forehead and   
frowned as he felt the obvious drop in Tain's body temperature. His   
scales had a black tinge to them that had him more than a bit concerned   
as well.

"Garak's coming soon. He's coming..."

"How long has he been like this?" Julian asked, looking back at the   
other occupants of the cell.

"A few days," a Romulan woman answered. "He was working on making a   
subspace transmitter from the old environmentals within the wall and he   
had some kind of seizure. We've each been taking turns trying to   
continue the work but we haven't got very far. Is he going to die?"

Julian checked Tain's pulse as he answered. "He needs immediate medical   
attention. I'm fairly certain he's had a heart attack."

"You won't get much sympathy from our captors, I'm afraid."

His head snapped around. "General Martok?"

"Those p'taqs are happy to let him die like an animal," the battered   
Klingon spat, giving Bashir a hard look as he stumbled through the door,   
his left arm thrown over the shoulder of an equally bloodied Romulan   
man. "Do I know you?"

Before he could answer, the Romulan woman rushed over to them. "Regor!   
What did they-"

"I'm all right, Kalenna," the Romulan man said, wheezing slightly as he   
half-carried Martok to his bunk. "I think they managed to crack a few of   
my ribs, but the General took the brunt of their 'training' this time."

Martok sat with a wince. "So you're Starfleet, are you?" he asked Bashir   
after he impatiently waved away the Romulans.

"Yes, sir - Dr. Julian Bashir assigned to Deep Space Nine." He paused.   
"You don't remember meeting me, sir?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't," Martok replied, rubbing his shoulder.

Julian frowned. He knew the General had been replaced by a Founder, but   
he also distinctly remembered Martok earlier cutting his hand open to   
'prove' he was not a Founder. If Founders could fake that... "How long   
have you been a prisoner here?" he asked.

"Two years, give or take," Martok answered. "Time gets away from you   
here after a while."

"Then that means..." He shook his head. "Oh my God. How many Founders   
are out there in the Alpha Quadrant?"

"More than we'll probably ever know," Martok said, closing his eyes and   
sitting back in the bunk.

"Do you need help-?"

"Help Tain, doctor," Martok said, opening his one good eye and nodding   
toward the Cardassian. "The Hadar will soon be here to patch up our   
wounds in time for their next 'training' session, but he's useless to   
them. They won't bother keeping him alive, but *we* need him conscious   
enough to instruct us on how to modify the environmentals. I assume   
Kalenna has briefed you on that?"

"She mentioned it in passing."

Tain reached out and gripped Julian's arm tightly. "He'll come."

"No, Tain." Julian turned from the General and looked down at the man on   
the bunk. "After all you've done to him, Garak's the last person who   
will come looking for you. We need to contact Deep Space Nine or the   
Klingons."  
He felt the man's pulse again and looked into his eyes. "If we build the   
communication device I can try to reach the station - get help."

"We have to reach Garak," Tain insisted. "Only Garak will understand."

"Understand what?" Julian asked quietly, ignoring the others and   
concentrating only on Tain. "How could he possibly help us? And why do   
you think he'd even bother to help you? You of all people?"

"He'll come," Tain murmured, slipping into unconsciousness. "If not for   
me then...for you..."

*****

His office was unusually quiet today; not many patients, all his   
paperwork was caught up. This lack of activity is wreaking havoc on my   
sanity, Julian thought, as he leaned back in his chair.

He fished the box out of his desk drawer once again and ran his fingers   
over Garak's gold lieutenant's pips, remembering his first day at the   
Jem'Hadar prison camp over six months ago. He'd done everything in his   
power to keep Garak's old spymaster - whom he had later learned was his   
father - alive so they could build the communication device and free   
themselves. Tain had kept insisting that Garak would save them, and he'd   
been right; Garak did save them. But Tain hadn't been right about   
everything. Garak had come for Tain but he hadn't come for *him*.

He hadn't even known he was missing. While he struggled to survive on   
some damned asteroid in the middle of a nebula, Garak was busy bedding   
his doppelganger. He had been angry in the beginning, and he'd had the   
right to be angry. Julian had been a member of this crew for five years   
and Garak was the closest acquaintance he thought he had next to Dax,   
yet no one even noticed he'd been replaced, not even Garak. But then   
again, why would Garak want to? After five years of flirtation he   
thought he'd finally got what he wanted, even if it was with someone who   
just looked like Julian Bashir.

He had felt violated at first, then angry. Angry because...because...

"You still can't say it, can you Jules?" he said under his breath. "Cuts   
too close to home, doesn't it?"

He'd been willing to try to salvage something from the wreckage of their   
friendship after the initial shock had worn off, but the other man had   
cut and run. He'd been gone for more than two months now, going on   
three, without so much as a word. No explanation, no goodbyes. Elim   
Garak was now ensconced in some damned monastery on Bajor getting on   
with his life, while he had been left behind to see his own world   
crumble into a million pieces.

After they returned to the station, during the final confrontation with   
the Founder who had been impersonating him, Garak had almost been   
killed. As he lay dying, he had finally admitted to Julian that he was   
in love with him - not the pretender, him. Maybe it was the stress of   
his incarceration, maybe it was the shock of holding Garak's limp body   
in his arms, but for a moment he'd almost said the words back to him. He   
had been planning to when Garak woke up in the Infirmary. He realized   
later that it would have been ridiculous. He and Garak didn't belong   
together, but he might have done something - said something-

"Fuck," Julian muttered as he snapped the box closed and tossed it back   
in his desk drawer. Two months ago Garak had walked away from a   
Starfleet commission and their friendship: so why the hell was he   
sitting here looking at those goddamned pips yet again?

It wasn't as if he didn't have other things to worry about. His father   
was in prison, and his mother had been forced to move in with his cousin   
so she could be near her husband. It had also been made clear to him   
that not everyone in Starfleet had taken the news of his enhancements as   
lightly as Sisko had, and he shouldn't expect to be promoted or even   
commended in the foreseeable future, if at all. Because of the   
Founders' tendency to replace him, he now had to deal with a new 'point   
and check' system in the Infirmary where every sample he touched had to   
be verified by another member of the medical staff. And if that wasn't   
bad enough, the Dominion War had finally begun. Garak should have been   
the last thing on his mind.

But Garak was everywhere. The truth about his abduction and replacement   
was classified, so many of the station's residents not in the know still   
asked him about his 'fiancé', which had led to more than one awkward   
conversation since his return. He'd also had to deal with being assigned   
temporary quarters until his had been thoroughly inspected for any   
Founder technology or tampering.

Although it had been sanitized and gone over with a fine-toothed comb,   
the space had seemed tainted by the thing that had worn his face. New   
pictures, most of Garak and the two children the Founder had used in his   
deception, looked out from unfamiliar photo frames, a few new   
knickknacks graced the shelves in the living area, and, most disturbing   
of all to him, he'd found several new outfits that he knew must have   
come from Garak. After taking in the changes he'd gone on a cleaning   
spree and chucked most of it in the recycler. When he found the clothes   
he'd gathered them up in a great armful and began tossing them in,   
punching in the recycling code with a great deal of satisfaction - until   
he came to the sweater.

The second he touched the silky soft cotton he'd known that Garak had   
made it himself. It was a soft bronze color, a color Garak had often   
encouraged him to wear in the past. On the rare occasions he'd bought   
clothes from the tailor's shop the Cardassian always tried to steer him   
toward this very sort of thing and always in the same almost-flirtatious   
way. "My dear doctor," he'd say, "why you insist on dressing yourself in   
these dreary Starfleet-inspired colors is beyond me. What you should be   
wearing is something like this. This color complements your lovely   
complexion so well."

Garak always managed to throw him for a loop when he said things like   
that. He wasn't stupid; he knew Garak was flirting with him and he had   
even flirted back occasionally. It had been a game, but holding the   
evidence of how Garak had truly felt toward the Founder - no, toward him   
\- it gave him pause.

He had walked to the bathroom and held the sweater to his chest. Garak   
had been right, he thought. It was a nice color on him. He then went   
back into his bedroom and hung it back up. He told himself it didn't   
mean anything. The sweater was quite soft and well-made: why be   
impractical?

That was what he kept telling himself anyway.

He didn't wear the sweater, though; he just let it take up room in his   
closet for the same reason he kept the pips Garak left behind - whatever   
that reason was.

Julian had been so afraid to face him that he hadn't even bothered to   
visit him when he was recovering from his injuries. Instead, he'd read   
and reread Okuna's medical reports over and over again, resisting the   
urge to comment or inquire directly as to how the Cardassian's recovery   
was coming along. When Okuna did say anything to him about Garak's   
condition or state of mind he'd either feign disinterest or assume the   
same professional distance he would with any other patient. He did it so   
he could keep some distance; regain some perspective. Of course Garak   
would assume that Julian didn't want anything to do with him, and at the   
beginning he would have been right: Julian hadn't. Once Garak had left   
for Bajor, Julian had been relieved that he was out of his life, or so   
he told himself at the time, but in the past few weeks he had begun to   
feel as if he needed closure.

He had tried to send Garak numerous messages and had even gone down to   
the monastery once, but he'd been told that Garak wasn't accepting   
visitors. Dr. Okuna had become Garak's Starfleet liaison, but when   
Julian had asked him to talk to Garak on his behalf Okuna told him he   
didn't want to get in the middle of it. He couldn't blame him. If he   
were a young physician just starting out he wouldn't want to be caught   
up in his superior officer's unfolding relationship drama either.

Julian sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his hair   
in agitation. "Your problem is that you need to get out of this damn   
place, Jules," he muttered. "Get laid, get pissed, just get the hell   
away from the station."

"Dr. Bashir?"

Julian looked up to see Jake Sisko standing at the door to his office.   
He gave the younger man a quick smile, then looked at the chrono. "Sorry   
about that, Jake. I guess I lost track of the time."

He got up and motioned for Jake to precede him into the Infirmary. "All   
right," he said, picking up a medical PADD as Jake hopped up onto the   
biobed. "Let's get this physical done so you can get back to that   
girlfriend of yours, sound good?"

"What girlfriend?" Jake said with a dour expression.

"You and Ziyal not seeing one another any more?" Julian asked in a   
distracted tone as he picked up a tricorder and adjusted the controls.

"How can we when she's always running off to Bajor to be with Garak?" He   
spat out the Cardassian's name as if it were an insult.

Julian looked up in surprise. "Ziyal has been spending a lot of time at   
the monastery?"

"Try all of her time, and when she is here all she talks about is Garak   
this and Garak that and-" Jake made a disgusted sound in his throat. "I   
mean, I don't get it! He's, what? Thirty years older than her? Maybe   
it's some kind of, I don't know--psychological thing; like she's looking   
for something I can't give her but damned if I know what that is. I   
just--I just can't get her to deal with reality!"

"I'm sure that Ziyal is just being a good friend," Julian said awkwardly   
as he finished his scan. "Well, you check out so far. Any pains?   
Anything you'd like to discuss?"

Jake shifted uncomfortably and stared at his feet saying nothing.

"Nothing at all?" Julian prodded.

"Actually-" Jake bit his lip in consternation.

"Yes?"

Jake frowned, "I mean it's none of my business or anything but, you and   
Garak..."

Julian put down the tricorder and steeled himself for whatever came next.

"I mean, I know you guys weren't really...together," Jake continued, his   
cheeks darkening in embarrassment, "but when it kinda seemed like you   
were, Ziyal sort of lost interest in him, y'know? But now that you   
aren't speaking to him anymore--not that I'm trying to pressure you,   
doc, but--"

"Jake, I don't think this is a conversation I should be having with   
you..." he began.

"Damn it! I'm sick and tired of never being able to- shit!" Jake spit   
out then rubbed his eyes as if fending off an impending headache. He   
took a breath then looked back up to Julian in apology. "I'm sorry.   
Honest, I-I just-" He looked away, his face crumpling with pain. "I'm   
just under a little stress right now. Forget I ever said anything."

"Jake..." Julian reached his hand out and placed it on the young man's   
shoulder. "What's really going on here?"

"I just...it's nothing. Ziyal and I are just going through a rough   
patch." Jake took a shaky breath. "Normal stuff, nothing big. Really."

"If it's bothering you this much, then it's pretty big. If you want to   
talk about it--?"

Jake shook his head. "That's okay. I'm late; we're done here, right?" He   
jumped off the examination table and headed for the door.

"Jake!" Julian called out. "Don't leave. Just talk to me; let me help."

Jake looked at him then turned his face away, his cheeks dark with   
humiliation. "I appreciate the offer, doc, but it's private. I'll figure   
it out; just do me a favor and don't tell my dad that I almost lost it,   
okay? I need to deal with this on my own for awhile."

"What happens here is just between the two of us," Julian promised.   
"When you're ready..."

"Yeah, I know. " he said softly as he left.

Julian stared after him for a few seconds before looking at the PADD   
clutched in his hand. "Fuck."

He put it down and went back into his office. Perreira had gone to lunch   
and the rest of his staff was onboard the Titan for a meeting. He was   
all alone, which was probably for the best. Right now he wasn't in the   
best of moods.

Seeing Jake fall apart like that hit him where he lived. He'd been   
walking on a razor's edge himself ever since he returned to the station   
only to almost immediately have that bastard Zimmerman drag him and his   
genetic enhancements kicking and screaming out of the closet. He'd dealt   
with it the way he did with anything that bothered him: he turned off   
completely. Some men drank, some men got into fights: Julian Bashir   
turned into a robot. No emotion was better than having them all rain   
down on you at once, he thought. Unfortunately, he was probably past due   
for a breakdown and he knew it.

Garak haunted his thoughts and the rage he felt toward the Founder ate   
at him more and more as every day went by. Three and a half months - for   
three and a half goddamn months he lay in that hellhole and no one even   
noticed. What made things even worse was that the thing managed to not   
only earn three commendations while using his face but he had completely   
destroyed the life he had spent five years building. People actually   
liked the damn thing. Hell, from what he heard they liked it better than   
they did him.

//Sisko to Bashir//

Julian slapped his comm badge. "Yes, captain?"

//I need you to come to my office as soon as you're available.//

"Perreira should be returning in about five minutes. Is that all right?"

//That would be fine. Thank you. Sisko out.//

Julian frowned. Sisko hadn't sounded happy.

Why did he suddenly feel as though the other shoe was about to drop?

*****

"Six months?!? But sir--!"

"I don't like it either, doctor, but it's out of our hands."

"My father made a deal with Rear Admiral Bennett, sir." Julian said   
angrily. "He agreed to plead guilty and serve two years in prison - a   
sentence I still believe is overly harsh considering that Garak was   
convicted of attempted genocide and only got six bloody months! And   
after all that - after receiving how many commendations - saving   
countless lives - they want to suspend me for six months?!?"

"Lower your voice, doctor!" Sisko said angrily. "This wasn't Admiral   
Bennett's call - or mine for that matter! This came directly from   
Admiral Ross."

"Ross?" Julian asked in confusion.

"Apparently, he didn't appreciate me going around him and contacting the   
JAG on your parent's behalf." Sisko snatched his baseball off his desk   
and began to squeeze it in a punishing grip. "Hard as it may be to   
understand this, what's happening is less about you than it is about me."

"He's coming after me to get to you? That doesn't make sense!"

"An admiral's wounded pride rarely makes sense, Doctor," Sisko said in a   
deceptively restrained tone as the ball whined in protest. "He didn't   
appreciate my leaving a Founder to run rampant on the station for over   
three months, and he certainly didn't look kindly on me contacting   
Admiral Gilhouley about it and leaving his offices in the dark until it   
was all over with. My attempt to save your career by going to Bennett   
was, unfortunately, the straw that broke the camel's back." He looked up   
at Bashir. "Both times you were at the center of events, and although   
neither was actually your fault, the Admiral has decided you have to be   
made an example of."

"But six months?" Julian asked incredulously.

"When you came back from the Jem'Hadar prison you were eligible for   
ninety days of personal leave," Sisko replied. "When the report was   
filed regarding your enhancements, you should have been placed on   
suspension until your case files - all your case files - were thoroughly   
reviewed by a medical committee. We didn't do either. "You waived your   
leave and Bennett didn't see any need to put you through any more stress   
given what you and your family were going through. Ross is going by the   
book, but I can appeal and do intend to when I get back. At the very   
least, I can ensure your suspension is cut in half and have it listed as   
personal leave in your record to lessen the stigma."

Julian held back a snort. The stigma? As if being the poster child for   
hostile alien abduction *and* a genetically engineered freak weren't   
already a detriment? But no, he told himself: the suspension was the   
only thing he could control at this time, and even if the 'stigma'   
didn't bother him, the risk to his patients certainly did. And the fact   
that Sisko was decamping... He looked up at the captain. "You're leaving?"

"Not my choice either," Sisko said, his face darkening. "Colonel Regor   
and General Martok requested that I be present at the negotiations to   
hammer together the Romulan/Klingon Federation treaty. The Admiral   
accepted the offer on my behalf." He sighed and leaned back in his   
chair. "Not that I wouldn't have gone anyway. This treaty is vital to   
stopping the Dominion from taking over the Alpha Quadrant. I can't not   
be there."

"I understand," Julian said. "So three months, perhaps less?"

"I'll try," Sisko said carefully. "Until now I've had a pretty good   
track record with the Admiral. If things go well at the conference I   
might be able to talk him into dropping this or we can do it the hard   
way and launch a grievance. However, we'll have to face the possibility   
that you may be gone for the full six months. But you are an excellent   
doctor and your record was impeccable up to the time your enhancements   
were revealed. More importantly, the plea deal your father made was   
negotiated through Starfleet so there is no way in hell the review board   
can void it unless they can prove you've somehow abused your position.   
We will beat this; it will just take time."

"What about the Infirmary? My patients? The research I'm doing?"

Sisko held up a hand to forestall any further protests. "I'm on your   
side, doctor. Admiral Ross," and the man's name was said with a not so   
subtle hint of aggravation, "is throwing up a roadblock of policy at us   
in regard to your suspension. However, there are ways around it that are   
perfectly within common Federation practice and standards. You're going   
to be reassigned."

"On DS9?" What as, he asked himself. Maintenance? Official tennis   
instructor?

"On Bajor."

"Bajor." Julian thought about that for a second. "You don't mean that   
I'm going to be replacing Okuna as Garak's liaison, do you?"

Sisko nodded. "This way you stay close to the station but now your   
position falls under Admiral Nechayev's command."

"The whole reason this is happening is because you said Admiral Ross is   
unhappy that you've continually gone around his authority. Won't this be   
like spitting in the eye of the beast, sir?"

"I'm sure he won't be happy, but since Garak personally requested the   
transfer what could I do?" Sisko said with a triumphant grin. "Fleet   
Admiral Nechayev's orders are to keep Elim Garak happy right now and she   
outranks all of us."

"Garak requested me?" Julian asked in surprise.

"No, but we'll just keep that between us."

A feeling of foreboding came over Julian, "This...might not be such a   
good idea, sir."

"This isn't multiple choice, doctor" Sisko said, looking up at him in   
mild annoyance. "I need you here where I can use you. I understand that   
you have issues with Garak but if you can't get over it here and now   
then you might as well pack your bags and catch the first transport   
heading to Earth. I'm not going to put my ass on the line if you can't   
even be bothered to deal with a little inconvenience or personality   
conflict."

"It's not that, sir." Not entirely, anyway. "Garak and I haven't had any   
contact in months. I doubt he wants to see me."

"Then he'll get over it," Sisko said dismissively. "Garak is a   
professional. He knows your work is important to the war effort and that   
you need to be here just in case. While Garak is doing his job I want   
you working on the Ketracel white problem. O'Brien has two of his men   
loading a runabout with lab equipment now and they'll set it up in the   
orphanage's infirmary for you. Okuna is on the Venture for the meeting   
with their medical staff so I'll debrief him later this afternoon. You   
need to see Dr. Abamandil on the Venture before you leave for Bajor so   
pack quickly and tie up any loose ends before you go."

"Doctor...you mean the counselor," Julian said with a frown.

"It's a necessary evil, I'm afraid. As you yourself know, any member of   
the crew going on leave due to stress must see a counselor for   
treatment. Just do it and get it over with."

"Very well," Julian said, running a hand through his hair and cursing   
silently to himself. "Will that be all, sir?"

"That's all. I'll contact you when I get back and keep you informed as   
to the status of the review and the appeal. I promise you," Sisko said,   
rising from his chair and offering him his hand, "we will have this   
settled once and for all. This is merely a temporary setback, doctor."

"Thank you, sir." Julian said, hoping, but not really believing, he   
would be proven correct.

******

"This is a load of Mara shit!" Girani exploded as Julian cleaned out his   
desk.

"I gotta say, this really bites, doc," Perreira agreed as he set another   
box of samples on the hover cart near the door.

"I'm not too happy about it either," Julian said grimly, not even   
bothering to correct the nurse for calling him 'doc'. "But those are my   
orders and we will all just have to make do."

"But I'm an OB/Gyn, Okuna is a geneticist, Jabara is on maternity leave,   
and Perreira...well, Perreira is just useless!"

"Hey!" Adam objected before reaching for another box.

Girani continued as though she hadn't heard. "You're the head surgeon -   
Okuna and I can handle most run of the mill surgeries but what do they   
expect us to do if-"

"I'm just going to Bajor," Bashir said, cutting her off. "If anything   
happens I can be here in less than an hour. It will be fine."

"Did you hear who's replacing Sisko?" Adam asked, changing the subject.

"Shut up, Perreira." Girani growled, pacing irritably.

"I imagine it will be either Worf or Dax," Julian said.

"Wrong," Adam said. "O'Brien was talking about it during lunch. He said   
some of the guys on Fig's crew were saying Ross was starting this new   
program where we'd be rotating the crews here with the crews on the   
ships. Ross said that every other station did it that way and that was   
how DS9 was going to be run from now on, too."

"Did this 'Ross' happen to consider that the reason DS9 doesn't do   
things the way other Federation stations do might be because this is a   
*Bajoran* station or that the captain was just going away for two weeks   
at most?" Girani asked sarcastically.

"I doubt it," Julian muttered, then said in a louder voice, "So Captain   
Figueiredo is taking temporary control of the station while Sisko's away?"

"Nope, some dude named MacKelroy. Word is he's set to get is own ship   
but he's taking over in the interim."

"MacKelroy?" Julian repeated, pausing in his packing. "I've never heard   
of him."

"O'Brien says he was an American football player a few years back,"   
Perreira said. "Tore out his knee. After it was rebuilt he quit the game   
and went into the service. Mostly he's a pencil pusher now but he's   
apparently Ross's boy all the way. Kind of an asshole from what I hear."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Girani huffed. "What is that Earth   
saying? Birds of a feather?"

"More like the Golden Rule," Perreira said. "Ross has all the gold on   
his collar so he makes the rules; we just have to live with them."

"While I'm gone I want you to check on these patients especially,"   
Julian said, handing Girani a PADD. "And tell Okuna, in case I don't see   
him, that I want him to do a follow up on Jake Sisko."

"Did something come up in his labs?" Girani asked, all business.

"Physically he's fine, but emotionally?" Julian shook his head. "He   
sounded like he had a lot on his mind when I examined him earlier. Keep   
an eye on him, okay?"

Girani nodded. "Anything else?"

Julian glanced at Perreira then back at her. "Try not to kill any of the   
staff while I'm gone."

"I'll try, but I can't guarantee anything."

"Oooh!" Perreira pretended to quake in his boots then made a face at Girani.

"I'm so going to miss the witty repartee around here," Julian said dryly   
before reaching into his top drawer and slipping the gray box containing   
Garak's abandoned pips into his pocket surreptitiously. "Make sure to   
load these boxes onto the runabout personally. The men from engineering   
have most of the equipment already loaded, but I want to make sure these   
samples are secured properly."

"Yes, sir." Perreira said with a snappy salute before he left the Infirmary.

"How that boy ever got this far in the service-"

Julian smiled, "He's a damn good scrub nurse."

Girani grumbled. "Just - get back here soon. It's bad enough dealing   
with Perreira but now with Okuna on the way back I feel like I'm working   
with the Desidero Brothers."

"Since when do you watch classic Bolean comedy?" Julian asked curiously.

"Since you hired those two idiots," she retorted. "I needed the stress   
relief."

"I'll stop by in a week when I come in for my debriefing. Hold the fort   
down."

"Julian."

He looked up in surprise.

Girani, always a formal and somewhat acerbic person, reached out and put   
her hand on his shoulder. "The captain will fix this. You'll be back   
here in a month at most."

He nodded. "Just a vacation. Thanks Mirat, I'll see you in a week."

"See you in a week," she repeated, but he saw the look in her eyes. It   
was the same look she gave her patients when she knew there was nothing   
else she could do.

Julian pasted on what he hoped passed for an optimistic smile, but in   
his mind the words resounded: Girani is trying to be nice to me.

I am so completely fucked.

 

******

He frowned at the contents of his closet. Dan Okuna had mentioned that   
the children at the orphanage were uncomfortable around men in uniform,   
but Julian simply didn't have that much civilian clothing. On duty or   
off, he'd always worn his uniform. In fact, all he had hanging in his   
closet other than his uniforms were his exercise wear - and the sweater   
Garak had made the Founder.

As he brought up the clothing menu on his replicator and picked out what   
he'd need, he debated whether he should take the sweater with him. He'd   
looked up the monastery; it was in the northern continent, and it was   
early spring there - early enough for the nights still to be chilly and   
even for the odd snow flurry to still arrive. As he carried the hiking   
boots, jeans, T-shirts, and a few casual sweaters he'd replicated over   
to his suitcases, he looked back again at the closet, then finally   
pulled out the sweater and packed it as well, along with a fresh uniform   
for his return. He also took out an old pair of jeans he had brought   
with him after he had left the Academy. They were his vanity jeans; he   
hadn't fit in them in years, but he always kept them around just in case   
he ever had the chance to get back into shape. He took them off the   
hanger and pressed them against his waist. They should fit, Julian   
thought, lifting an eyebrow in surprise when he realized that they might   
even be a little baggy on him now. Maybe Miles wasn't exaggerating when   
he told him he was looking skinny as hell lately. He and Keiko kept   
shoveling food down his throat at every opportunity so he didn't think   
he had remained that thin after getting back from the Gamma quadrant. He   
tossed them in his bag along with enough clothing so he'd only have to   
do laundry every two weeks; if he needed more, he could buy it on Bajor.

If he wound up staying there, that is.

Despite what the captain had said, he doubted his reunion with Garak   
would go as smoothly as he hoped. He still had quite a few issues with   
the way the Cardassian had left things and from the way Garak had been   
rejecting any of his recent overtures, he figured the other man had more   
than a few of his own.

Julian hefted his bags and headed toward the turbolifts. One way or   
another, he thought, this would end with some kind of resolution between   
him and Garak.

"Well Jules, look on the bright side," he muttered under his breath as   
the lift doors closed. "You said you wanted to get off the station, right?"

It's just a vacation, Jules.

Fresh air, clean living...Garak.

"Yup," he muttered again, "I'm pretty much fucked."


	2. Détente

CHAPTER TWO: Détente

 

 

It was still another day before Bashir made it to Bajor, a fact which   
annoyed him to no end.

When he'd arrived on the Titan, he'd been met by Counselor Abamandil -   
Dr. Abamandil, he corrected himself. He held back a frown at the   
counselor's appropriation of the title "Dr." Although it wasn't common   
for Starfleet counselors to use the title; he supposed that anyone with   
a doctorate had the right to do so, even if it did sound a bit dodgy to   
his ears. But Abamandil had wielded his title in the same way he had his   
air of superiority, looking down at Bashir as if he were a bug under a   
magnifying glass.

Abamandil had taken one look at him and smiled knowingly. "I can tell   
just by looking at you that you are the quintessential bad patient,   
Bashir," he'd said. "Let me guess; you're the first to send your own   
patients straight to a counselor but when it comes to yourself you'd   
wade through the twelve levels of alkaline hell before you'd ever agree   
to meet with a 'shrink'." He chuckled. "Well, suck it up, my boy, and   
grab a chair, because from what I've read in your case file I have a   
feeling we're going to be here for a while."

And they had been. It hadn't solved anything; in fact, it had just made   
him more frustrated. But Julian Bashir was nothing if not wise to the   
ways of Starfleet counselors. He hedged and made the appropriate noises   
when necessary and hid his feelings, a skill he had honed throughout the   
years, but Abamandil was no fool. He'd seen more than Julian would have   
liked - but not enough to ground him for it.

Abamandil had tried, though. He'd kept him ducking and dodging with his   
insights until Bashir had no choice but to take Captain Figueiredo up on   
her offer to use one of the guest quarters for the night.

It was mid-morning when he entered the gates of the monastery. The air   
was crisp and clean with a slow, cool breeze, the wind scented with   
perfume from the flowering fruit trees. The first thing that caught his   
attention was how bright and cheerful the place appeared. It wasn't at   
all what he had expected. The last time he'd been to an orphanage on   
Bajor all he'd seen was the sadness that seemed to be permanently etched   
upon the children's faces and the quiet desperation in their eyes. The   
life of a hybrid child was hard, even among the best-intentioned people.   
Born of two worlds but belonging to no world at all, the forgotten   
children of Cardassia lived on the charity of the race their parents had   
oppressed and paid for the sins of their fathers with their isolation.

It was different here, though; that was obvious from the start. Most of   
the monks were scattered around the compound tending their small gardens   
or feeding the livestock, while others supervised groups of small   
children, teaching them how to plant and care for their seedlings. The   
Cardassian features of the handful of hybrids were easy to pick out in   
the crowd, but there was no staring or hostility directed toward them   
that he could see. No wonder Garak preferred it here.

He looked around until he saw a familiar silhouette dressed in the rough   
work robes of a penitent weeding a bed of plants. He walked over slowly,   
his mind already forming the thousand possible responses to anything the   
former tailor might say.

Garak's head twitched toward his feet as he approached him from the   
side. "You're late. You missed breakfast by a good two hours. Pass me   
that spade by your foot, would you?"

Julian, surprised by Garak's friendly tone reached down and handed the   
man the shovel. Garak took it without looking at him and said. "So, that   
young lady of yours come to her senses yet, doctor?"

Julian's brow wrinkled in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't know what   
you're talking about. My social life isn't exactly thriving these days."

Garak spun around, startled, "What the hell--where is Dr. Okuna?" he asked.

Julian cursed internally. Of course it wasn't going to be that easy. The   
other doctor must not have had time to debrief Garak on the situation.   
"Okuna has been reassigned," he said. "I'm going to be taking his place   
from here on out."

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"You aren't staying. Tell Sisko to send someone else." Garak abruptly   
arose from the ground, dusted himself off roughly and walked into his   
cabin, slamming the door behind him.

 

Julian stared after the closed door as his initial surprise at the   
Cardassian's anger began to feed into his own resentment.

*He's* pissed? Julian thought. What the hell did Garak have to be pissed   
about? He's the one who... "Son of a bitch!" Julian muttered as he   
strode purposefully into the cabin, not even bothering with the polite   
pretense of knocking.

"Get out!" Garak ordered the moment he burst through the door.

"We need to talk, Garak," Julian said as he held his ground.

Garak's voice was chilly. "The children are going to be here soon and I   
don't want your presence upsetting them."

Julian looked to the door and tightened his lips in frustration. "I know   
this is an inconvenience to you and I realize that you don't want me   
here, but we need to talk. Just give me a chance-"

"Say whatever you want," Garak said, turning his back on him and picking   
up a PADD. "You have five minutes and then you're leaving whether you're   
through or not."

"Damn it, Garak!" Julian growled in frustration. He struggled to control   
his anger before speaking again but it was becoming a lost cause. The   
man was being an utter arse! "You aren't making this easy for me."

"It's not my job to make your life easier, doctor," Garak spat out. "I   
didn't ask you to come here and I didn't invite you into my home. You   
barged in and now you are demanding my attention. I said you could   
speak: I didn't promise I'd listen. State your business, take these   
translations back to Sisko," and with that he slapped some PADDs on the   
desk near the door, "and inform him that the next time he decides to   
reassign someone, it had better not be you!"

Julian felt licks of anger curdle in his stomach as Garak dismissed him.   
He watched the Cardassian take two muffins from a large basket on the   
main table and set them on some napkins. "I'm not hungry," he said stiffly.

"It isn’t for you, it's for the children." Garak glanced up at him   
briefly. "Three minutes, doctor."

"Look," Julian bit out as he approached the table, "I don't know what   
the hell I'm doing - what we're doing here and - Goddammit!" Garak's bad   
behavior coupled with six months of stress blew whatever logical   
argument he had been trying to form out of his mind. "I don't know what   
the hell you thought you were doing with that shapeshifting bastard and   
I frankly don't care anymore! Maybe I was in denial and maybe we had   
come close to some kind of...Fuck! You make things so goddamn   
frustrating!" He balled up his fists at his sides and tried again, his   
face blood red with anger and embarrassment. "I don't know if I ever   
wanted to be involved with you in that way, but I do know that there was   
something between us before all the shit hit the fan, and if we don't at   
least try to salvage something from our - whatever the hell it was that   
we had, then that *bastard* who stole my life wins! Do you really want   
that, Garak? Because if you do then I will turn around and leave you   
here so you can spend the rest of your life wallowing in self-pity   
because you were either too gullible or too hard up and fell into   
that-that *thing's* bed!"

That finally got Garak's attention.

He looked up at Bashir then dropped his gaze to the knife he was using   
to cut up some fruit. He carefully placed it on the table before taking   
a step towards Bashir. "How dare you." His voice was cold and deathly   
quiet. "How dare you come here and-"

"Do you even know what it is I've been going through, Garak?!?" Julian   
shouted, the floodgates finally opening as he allowed his anger and   
frustration to spew forth. "Three months! Three fucking months I was in   
that hellhole only to come back to see my entire life turned upside down   
by you and that-that son of a *bitch*! And then, after I *saved your   
life*, you just cut and run and leave me to pick up the pieces! *I* was   
the one who had to pack up everything you left behind! *I* was the one   
who had to go through countless debriefings and wade through hours of   
personal logs watching that - thing - wax poetic about how fucking   
perfect life was with Elim Garak warming its bed! I was   
*violated*--violated on every level! My private life was laid bare, my   
past investigated, my sexual history bandied about by a panel of   
tight-arsed Starfleet bureaucrats--my career virtually destroyed because   
of something I had no control over and you--*YOU* had a hand in that!"   
He snorted, his hand slicing through the air in an angry gesture. "But,   
of course, you were too damned cowardly to face up to it so you took off   
so you could play monk to a bunch of fucking orphans!" He jabbed an   
accusing finger toward the now obviously furious Cardassian. "Well,   
bully for you Brother Elim! Did you ever once stop to consider what I   
was going through while you were down here living your little home and   
hearth fantasy?"

"You selfish, egotistical-" Garak growled low in his throat as he   
advanced upon the other man. "You are not the only victim here, *Doctor*   
Bashir! I had a life - I had-" He reached out and gave Julian's shoulder   
a rough shove that nearly dislocated it from its socket. "Get the hell   
out of my quarters while you still can, Bashir!"

Julian, his anger rising to a volcanic peak, shoved back just as hard.   
"You want to take a swing at me?" he shouted. "Be my guest! You think   
I'm selfish? How dare you knowingly leave me behind to deal with picking   
up the mess you left of my reputation and then call *me* selfish?!   
Beating you to a bloody pulp would make my fucking month!" He shoved him   
again, this time harder.

Garak balled his fists, his voice suddenly dropped into an icy registry.   
"You're treading down a dangerous path, Bashir."

"Is that a threat, Brother Elim?" Julian retorted. "Oh, and here I   
thought you were a postulant monk filling his days with gardening and   
the sound of children's laughter! I guess it wasn't as good a fit as you   
thought, huh? You're a fucking hypocrite, Garak!" he spat out. "You   
stand here wearing those robes and a Bajoran earring *pretending* to be   
a fucking martyr - you're just another bloody Cardassian looking for a   
way to take advantage of these people and if you have to do it by   
appealing to their religious beliefs then so be it, right? Just as long   
as it gives *you* what *you* want!"

Garak's eyes glinted with anger. "If this is a passive-aggressive form   
of suicide, Bashir, you should know that you are coming dangerously   
close to accomplishing your goal."

"I guess that means that the little speech you gave about being in love   
with me all those years was just more of your usual half-truths and   
deceptions," Julian shot back. "The consummate bullshit artist even in   
the face of death."

Garak suddenly went deathly pale, his head rocking back as though   
struck. He turned away from Julian, his whole body shaking, his eyes   
shuttered closed as if he were in pain. Julian realized too late he had   
gone too far.

"For three days," Garak eventually replied, "I lay in that biobed. For   
three days I waited for you to come so we - so I could..." Garak took a   
shuddering breath and turned his gaze back to him. His eyes were dead   
now, his posture defeated. "I didn't run. You ran first. You made it   
obvious to me that I was no longer a welcome presence on the station. I   
left because you wanted me to leave."

"I never said that!" Julian cried, his ire returning.

"And what did you tell me on the Defiant? That I was an idiot to believe   
you could ever want me! You made it very clear that you despised me,   
even going so far as to dump me off in the Infirmary and not even bother   
to see if I lived or died. I lost everything - EVERYTHING!" Garak   
shouted, angrier than Julian had ever seen him. "You just acted as   
though it were business as usual! I am not your *pet*, doctor!" He spat   
out, looking him up and down in distaste. "I'm so sorry that I can't be   
there to listen to you prattle on and complain that your life is so   
unfair! I have more important things to do!"

Julian advanced again. "And I didn't lose anything?!? You ran! I stayed   
\- you ran, Garak! You ran and you weren't even man enough to do it on   
your own! You had Shakaar do your dirty work for you so don't you *dare*   
stand there and accuse me of-"

"Dr. Julian!"

Both men spun toward the door in shock as a little brown-haired girl   
launched herself at Julian. An older hybrid boy stood pale faced at the   
door and looked at Garak uncertainly. "We heard the shouting from   
outside..."

"You're back! You're back! You're back!" the little girl cried giddily   
as she launched herself at Julian's knees. "Look, Lewin! We can be a   
family now! I told you he'd be back! I told you!"

Oh Christ, Julian thought, his anger fading into a sick ball in the pit   
of his stomach. He looked down at the child helplessly then back up to   
Garak, silently begging for some kind of answer - something that he   
could say or do to get out of this situation - but the other man only   
stood there, his features drawn and tense.

I don't even remember her name, Julian thought numbly. Oh god, what the   
hell do I do now?

"What is he doing here, Elim?" Lewin asked quietly as he stared at   
Julian with wide, frightened eyes. "You said he was gone now."

Julian felt the bile rise in his throat as he caught the boy's   
expression. He thinks I'm the Founder, he suddenly realized. Oh bloody   
fuck, this is--

"It's all right, Lewin. This is - this is Dr. Bashir," Garak said,   
finding his voice again. "He was just leaving-"

"No!" The little girl tightened her grip on Julian's leg. "He can't go!   
Dr. Julian said we was going to get married and be a family! He   
promised! You promised, tell them Dr. Julian!" she said, looking up at   
him with wide brown eyes.

"Kela-" Lewin said, stepping toward his sister protectively.

"You can't take him away from me!" Fat tears began to roll down Kela's   
cheeks. "I won't let you! I won't!"

"Kela," Garak said in a low but shaky tone, still obviously affected by   
how brutal their argument had become, "your brother and I discussed this   
with you. Why don't we all calm down and have a snack and let Dr. Julian   
get back to the station."

"But he has to stay!" Kela insisted, her tone becoming increasingly   
strident. "We're going to live on the station and Noni will buy us toys   
and I can play with Molly like before."

Garak's eyes flickered toward Julian's, the accusation in them nearly   
audible. Dammit, Julian thought. Neither he nor Sisko ever considered   
this. He'd never even thought about the way the children might react to   
his presence. Why would he? He'd never even met them - he'd basically   
blocked out the fact that Garak and the Founder had planned on creating   
a ready-made family together. A wave of shame crashed over him. I can't   
believe I just - *fixated* so much on saving my own arse that I casually   
forgot that these children existed. I have to fix this.

Julian awkwardly got on one knee and started to pull the little girl   
toward him. Lewin began to launch himself forward, his face a mask of   
fear for his sister, but Garak intercepted him.

"It's okay. He won't hurt her," Garak promised the boy as he placed a   
gentle but restraining arm around his shoulders.

I hope there is a hell, Julian thought as he watched the boy's reaction.   
I hope there is a hell and I hope the Founder is in it.

Julian hesitated, waiting for the boy to relax before reaching out again   
to the little girl and looking into her little gamine face. Cupping her   
trembling chin in his hands, he wiped the tears from her eyes with the   
pads of his thumbs as he pasted on what he hoped was a soothing smile.   
"Hush all that crying, young lady. You're giving your poor brother a   
scare and that's not good, is it?"

"No..." she whimpered.

"No, it certainly isn't," Julian said. "Lewin is a little worried, and   
I'm sure that this situation is very confusing for you as well. That's   
an awful feeling, isn't it? When things don't make sense?" He waited for   
her nod. "Did your brother and Garak explain to you what happened to the   
other Dr. Julian?" Calling that thing by his name made his head throb   
but he kept his tone even and his expression calm.

"Lewin said you were pretend and that you weren't coming back any more,   
but I told him you were real and here you are," Kela said, her eyes   
still flooded with tears.

Julian bit his lip as he carefully plotted out what he was going to say   
next. "Have you ever seen two people who look the same but weren't?"

"Like identical twins, Kela," Lewin interjected. "Like Lessie and Bo."

"Uh huh," Kela said, her expression clearing up as she caught on to what   
he was trying to say.

"That's right." Julian awarded Lewin with a quick smile before turning   
back to the little girl. "The man you knew as Dr. Julian was like my   
identical twin. While you were with him I was a long way away until   
Garak came to rescue me. You see, the other Dr. Julian was only   
pretending to be me. I'm the real Julian, understand?"

"But you're still going to stay and adopt us, right?" Kela insisted. "I   
told the other kids I had a family and when you went away...I don't want   
you to go away again. Please?"

Julian frowned and looked down at the floor, dreading the inevitable   
conclusion to this conversation but knowing that it had to be said. "I   
wish that I could be your family, but you see...Garak is just   
my...friend...and we - um, the thing is that-"

"Kela," Garak said, stepping in. "This is actually the very first time   
this Dr. Julian has ever met you, do you understand?"

"Oh." She looked from one man to the other, then smiled at Julian shyly   
and placed her starfish-shaped hand on his chest. "That's okay," she   
said with a warm smile. "We know each other now and you can live in my   
room. You can help feed Pika and everything. It's my turn but you can do   
it if you want to."

Julian felt his stomach flip as his genetically enhanced intellect   
failed him in the face of a four-year-old's logic.

Garak walked over to the table and began to wrap the children's snacks   
in some napkins. "Kela, why don't you and Lewin go take your muffins and   
fruit to the hound's enclosure and share them with Pika while Dr. Bashir   
and I talk, all right?"

"But you said we weren't allowed to feed Pika any more muffins cause   
Brother Reven said he was getting too fat and it messed with his   
'gestion," Kela argued, unwilling to release her grip on Julian.

"I'll...talk to Reven about it later. I'm sure that one or two won't   
hurt him," Garak said, holding out the napkins.

"But if I go then Dr. Julian could go away again," Kela said stubbornly.

"Kela..." Garak said in an authoritative tone. "You have your chores and   
the doctor and I have to get back to work."

Kela shook her head. "Only if Dr. Julian comes too."

"Kela!" Lewin said angrily. "Stop acting like a brat!"

"You can't make me! I won't go! Last time I went, Dr. Julian got   
disappeared - I won't leave him!" Kela pouted, her face clouding over again.

"Okay, okay - it's all right." Julian said, trying to head off the   
storm. "I promise I'll be here when you get back. Cross my heart."

"Really?"

"I swear."

"And you'll sit with us during lunch and last meal?" she asked.

"I wouldn't miss it."

"Okay." Kela stepped forward and took the muffins from Garak then turned   
back to Julian to place a sweet kiss on his cheek. "I love you, Dr.   
Julian, even though you forgot about me for a little while. C'mon,   
Lewin!" she sang out as she bolted out the door.

Instead of following his sister, Lewin looked from Garak to Julian   
uncertainly.

"Go on, son," Garak said with a reassuring smile.

"Are you sure you don't need me to stay?" Lewin asked.

"Go watch your sister, I'll be fine," Garak replied, pushing him gently   
toward the door.

Lewin gave Julian one last uncertain look then walked out of the cabin   
slowly, closing the door behind him.

Julian closed his eyes and leaned forward despite the ache in his knees   
from kneeling on the hard wooden floor for so long. "How could he? How   
could he do that to those kids? What kind of monster uses children like   
that?"

"His betrayal is just the latest of many those children have endured,   
doctor," Garak said wearily. "And unfortunately it isn't even the worst   
they've experienced."

Julian winced as he rose from the floor. "What's their story?"

"It's not completely clear. Their mother was a comfort woman who was   
left behind after the Occupation. She gave birth to Lewin in a refugee   
camp and was turned out when the others saw her child and accused her of   
being a collaborator. After that it gets fairly murky. There is some   
evidence she was a prostitute whose tricks got violent. She was   
half-dead when she was brought to the monastery where Kela was born. She   
died of an infection that the prylars couldn't treat and the children   
were eventually sent here. Lewin was three, almost four, when his mother   
died."

"I'm surprised they didn't separate them."

"Some tried. Kela could have been adopted a dozen times over but the   
woman made the monks swear to keep her children together." Garak shook   
his head. "Kela is all Lewin has."

"Until you," Julian said.

"Yes." Garak cleared his throat and walked over to the couch to sit down.

"I'm sorry." Julian felt the guilt claw at his soul.

"What's done is done," Garak said, not turning around. "You don't have   
to stay. I'll explain it to the children."

"I...can't. And even if I could I wouldn't. I made a promise to that   
little girl."

Garak tilted his head slightly toward him, just enough that Julian could   
see his profile highlighted by the bright sunlight streaming through the   
window. "Why are you here, doctor? Not just to reacquaint yourself with   
the simple life, I suspect?"

Julian walked to the front of the room so he could face Garak head on.   
"Okuna told you about my enhancements being made public?"

"Yes, by a Doctor..."

"Zimmerman," Julian finished for him. "An engineer, actually. Admiral   
Ross has decided to suspend me for the next six months because of that   
and the Founder business."

Garak frowned, "In the middle of your research-"

"I said the same thing; they didn't listen." Julian sat on the couch and   
looked Garak in the eye. "Look, ultimately it's your choice. If you   
think I'm more trouble than I'm worth, I'll go. Maybe...maybe I can get   
a temporary position in one of the hospitals here or the Bajoran   
government can find a place for me. I also...I understand, at least a   
little, why you left. I mean, I still - we both still have a lot of   
anger to work out over this, obviously, but now I see that those kids   
need you and you were in pain, so you left the station to regroup and   
pick up the pieces. I see that now. With that said, though, you can't   
begrudge me the same thing. I need time to pick up the pieces as well."   
He paused. "The Founder damaged those kids' trust using my name and my   
face. I have a moral obligation to make that right. If I run from this I   
will never be able to call myself any sort of man ever again. Whether   
you accept me here as your liaison or not, I'm not leaving Bajor until I   
know those children are all right."

"You say that now, but just how long do you think you'll be able to keep   
your promise? A week? A month? 'Fixing' this isn't a quick cure - you   
can't erase those children's memories with a hypospray. It means making   
a commitment and I just can't see that happening."

"Then you obviously don't know me very well at all."

Garak shrugged, obviously unimpressed. "So be it, doctor. I want to   
defeat the Dominion as much as you do. I have as much interest in seeing   
that you complete your research as anyone; perhaps even more. You can stay."

"Thank you," Julian said in relief.

"The Infirmary is the second building from the right across from the   
dining hall. Lunch is at one, the monks set out informal snacks and tea   
at four, and dinner is at six followed by prayers at the temple. There   
are no replicators but you may keep something in your room. Danna or   
Reven can show you around; you'll find them in the prylar's office in   
the community building this time of day. You can sleep in one of the   
cots in the Infirmary or you can stay in the cabin Okuna uses, which is   
in the guest quarters nearest the gate." He got up from the couch and   
fixed Julian with a cold stare. "I don't want you here, but I will put   
up with you as long as you do your job and keep out of my way."

"I understand," Julian said soberly, then got up as well. "I need to go   
set up my lab space then."

Garak's eyes held some shadowed emotion. "I don't know what you expected   
to find by coming here."

"I-" Julian licked his lips and thought about how to answer him. "I'm   
not doing very well right now. I don't expect you to care, but...I need   
resolution. I didn't choose to be here like this, Garak. While I am   
here, though, I'd like for us to somehow get past this."

"I hope you find your peace, doctor," Garak said, turning his back to   
him. "but I'm not interested in renewing our friendship. You're here to   
work, that's all, and if you hurt those children while pursuing your   
peace of mind, there will be consequences."

"I understand." Julian agreed. He hesitated for a moment then decided to   
go for broke. "And what about you?"

Garak turned back toward him, "What about me, doctor?"

"I don't want my presence to cause you...I don't want to hurt you by   
being here, Garak."

"Hurt me?" Garak's answering smile was cold. "In order to hurt me,   
doctor, I would have to care about you one way or another. I assure you   
that isn't the case. Now if you will excuse me."

At Garak's dismissal, Julian left to explore his new home, his troubled   
thoughts following him as he headed toward the Infirmary.

 

*****

When mid-meal was served, Julian arrived at the dining hall but Garak   
was nowhere to be found. He sat with Prylars Danna and Reven, Kela   
beside him chattering the whole time, and was familiarized with how the   
monastery functioned.

Reven and Danna were good hosts, very pleasant, and Kela was a delight.   
Garak's absence actually gave him a chance to calm down and settle in a   
little but he knew it would be a short respite. They couldn't avoid one   
another forever, not in a place this small.

The only other thing that bothered him was that Lewin had chosen to sit   
at another table, ostensibly to be with his friends, but Julian felt the   
boy's eyes on him every time he touched his sister or spoke to her.

He knew he had his work cut out for him when it came to earning those   
children's trust.

After lunch and a quick tour of the monastery, Julian had gone to the   
Children's Infirmary to check on the equipment the engineers had   
installed for him. After rearranging the microscopes, scanners and   
stasis modules to his liking and after squaring away his samples, he   
took a moment to look over the medical equipment Okuna had set up in the   
main area of the infirmary.

The monks spurned the use of most 'unnecessary' technology, but when it   
came to the health and welfare of their charges they were much more open   
to receiving technological assistance. Okuna had brought down a few   
computers and medi-scanners, but Julian thought they could do with more.   
He made notes as to what else he felt the Infirmary needed. As long as   
he was there anyway, he may as well make sure they were well stocked.

 

The drug cabinet was a different matter. He suspected that Okuna had   
either shortsightedly forgot to stock the infirmary adequately or that   
he'd assumed he couldn't pass on Starfleet supplies to a non-Federation   
facility. Either way, he thought with a scowl, their medical supplies   
were sadly lacking. Julian might be a supporter of holistic remedies   
such as herbs and meditation, but an infirmary needed to be ready to   
treat serious infections and medical conditions that required modern   
drugs. Kela and Lewin's mother was a testimony to that.

"Alomanisil, tetrohydroxidone...bloody hell, they don't even have a   
decent range of anti-virals," he muttered, typing on his PADD.   
"Hydrixodine - I need to have a talk with Okuna...shoddy, just shoddy.   
How can you think to install a damned medi-scanner and not have   
hydrixodine in the medicine cabinet? I mean that's just basic medicine,   
man. And where is the bloody sanitizer?" He sniffed the contents of a   
bottle marked 'antiseptic solution' and shook his head. "Lemon water?   
Are you kidding me? This is going to be a long day."

As he added to his growing supply list he looked up to see Kela staring   
at him with her big brown eyes, looking slightly peeved. "Is there   
something you need?"

"It's supper time," she said.

"Already?" Julian looked up at the chrono in surprise. "Why, yes it is.   
I'm sorry, I must have gotten sidetracked."

Kela huffed impatiently. "The bell sounded a few minutes ago and if you   
don't hurry up we'll *starve*."

Julian put down his PADD and grinned down at her crookedly. She stood   
there glaring at him with her hands on her hips and a deadly serious   
expression - he could definitely see what it was that drew Garak to   
these children.

"It's not funny," she said in a disgruntled tone. "Garak says that   
tardiness is laziness and if we don't get to supper there won't be any   
more dessert left and Sister Marko made *pie*!"

Julian forced the grin off his face and cleared his throat. "Oh, I see.   
Well then, we must hurry, mustn't we? I definitely wouldn't want to miss   
out on pie."

Kela nodded and took his hand, dragging him toward the dining hall,   
chattering all the way.

If it hadn't been for the tension emanating from Garak, dinner would   
have been almost as pleasant as lunch had been. The food was well   
prepared and flavorful, Kela was a delight, and even Lewin slowly began   
to thaw when he saw how careful Julian was to engage his sister in   
conversation.

Afterwards they were all called to the Temple. It was a simple log   
building filled with wooden pews, decorated with potted plants and   
filled with sunlight that streamed through large picture windows. It was   
not ornate nor was it as solemn as other Bajoran temples he'd been in.   
This temple was less like the cathedrals in the capital city and more   
like a simple country church you'd find in any small village in England   
or America. The altar cloth was hand-woven; behind the altar was a large   
quilt depicting scenes of their daily lives, obviously created by small   
hands. This building was a symbol of the home they had created, and   
instead of an orb or holy relic the object of their worship was merely   
the beauty and simplicity of the lives they lived daily.

Brother Danna, the head Prylar, stood at the altar and began the song of   
prayer. Garak had moved off to be with the other monks and they raised   
their voices as one, the Cardassian's surprisingly rich tenor easily   
audible to Julian's ears.

He studied Garak carefully. There was no dissemblance in his   
performance, but he didn't see the rapturous joy of a true believer   
there either. In Garak's face he saw...desperation. He frowned. It was   
as though Garak wanted to believe, wanted something-

Why had Garak chosen this life? It was more than just a need to be near   
the children: that much he knew. It was also more than just his need to   
get away from the station. As the monks sang a joyful chorus of hope and   
tolerance, Garak's voice, though just as sweet and in tune, held a   
melancholy that tugged at him. He sang as though it were a funeral rite   
and not simply a prayer to the Prophets for providing them with another   
day of peace.

Julian wasn't a religious man, but he was tolerant of others who were   
and he had been to a Bajoran temple before. He did not believe the   
wormhole aliens were divine. He had read of beings even more mysterious   
and powerful than the Prophets had revealed themselves to be: the Q, for   
instance. He often wondered if there was a connection between these   
powerful aliens, but it wasn't his field of study or interest. He was a   
surgeon specializing in infectious diseases and biomolecular medicine,   
not a theologian. 'I think therefore I am' was about the extent of his   
religious and philosophical leanings. He had thought that Garak was the   
same in that regard. The Cardassians had no religion; in fact, their   
literature celebrated the fact that the State had destroyed all   
references to the 'primitive teachings' of their Hebetian ancestors.   
What, then, did Garak get from all of this? What was he looking for?

After evening prayers, Julian returned to the Infirmary and continued   
his inventory, then sat down at his computer to work. Kela had   
disappeared from his side just long enough to retrieve some art supplies   
and was silently scribbling away, only looking up occasionally to check   
on his presence or to have him examine her latest creation.

Not being a man used to the presence of children (he had graduated   
medical school with honors in pediatrics but had never practiced), he   
failed to notice the lateness of the hour or that Kela had nodded off at   
his desk until Lewin came looking for her.

"Kela..." the boy said, walking in and shaking her shoulder. "You missed   
lights out. Brother Lum sent me to get you."

Kela opened her eyes and looked around in confusion. "I have to stay   
with Dr. Julian."

"Go on to bed, Kela. I'll be fine," Julian said, smiling apologetically   
to Lewin.

"I'll stay here. I'm not tired," Kela insisted.

"That's why there's a stylus stuck to your face and a puddle of drool on   
the desk," Lewin snorted.

"Leave me alone," she said crankily, wiping off the corner of her mouth.

"Fine, but Brother Lum said if I don't get you to take a bath and get   
into bed soon that you'll be on punishment, which means you won't be   
allowed to play with Pika for a week."

Kela glared at her brother, obviously annoyed, but before she could   
argue, Julian stepped in. "I think I can make do by myself for a while.   
Besides, it's past my bedtime as well."

"Are you sure?" Kela asked uncertainly, her eyes at half mast despite   
the determined jut of her chin.

"You can be my assistant tomorrow after school, okay?"

"O-kay..." Kela said, putting away her art PADD and color stylus before   
getting up and taking her brother's hand.

"Lewin...?" Julian asked, stopping the boy before he left.

"Yes, sir?" Lewin asked cautiously.

"Dr. Okuna's quarters - they're just over there, right?" he asked,   
pointing out the window.

"Just look for three double cabins near the gate. He stays in the one   
with the funny looking sand garden and the weird tree out front."

"Weird tree?" Julian asked with a frown.

"Yeah. The monks said that since he spent most of his time here that he   
could have a garden of his own but instead of planting anything he just   
put a bunch of rocks and sand in it and stuck this twisted up little   
tree in the middle." Lewin shrugged. "I didn't get it but the monks   
thought it was interesting."

"Molly's mommy gave him the tree, but I think it got sick 'cause he told   
me it was really old but it's only this big," Kela said, holding her   
hands about two feet apart.

"Bonsai. Dr. Okuna's family is Japanese. They have meditation gardens   
and little trees that they sculpt and prune called bonsai."

"He said he was from Cananida not from Japanese," Kela said, correcting him.

Julian chuckled, ushering the children out the door. "Canada, but Dr.   
Okuna's race is Japanese which means his ancestors came from Japan - and   
after I've settled I think perhaps we'll have a bit of a lesson on Earth   
cultures."

"Goodnight, Dr. Julian!" Kela said, giving him a quick hug and hurrying   
off toward the children's barracks.

"Goodnight." Julian watched Lewin walk after her and he called out to   
him as well. "Goodnight, Lewin."

Lewin looked at him and shifted his stance, obviously still   
uncomfortable with Julian's presence. "Goodnight, um, Dr. Julian."

Julian thought about saying something, but he had no idea what he could   
say. It was only his first day and Lewin obviously needed time to   
adjust, so instead he just nodded and watched the boy head off after his   
sister.

He sighed, then walked toward the guest cabins. "At least the girl likes   
you, that's something," he muttered.

When he left the Infirmary, a light drizzle had begun to fall. He'd left   
his bags on the runabout parked outside the gate; by the time he sent a   
quick report to Sisko and a requisition order for medical supplies the   
drizzle had turned into a downpour. Julian slogged his way through the   
mud and dark to his cabin and rushed inside, not bothering to examine   
the rock garden that Kela and Lewin told him about. He dropped his bags   
and tugged off his muddy boots, setting them on the mat by the door,   
then looked around his new home.

It was rustic and cozy; simplistic, but one really didn't need much   
else. It was the same basic layout as the cabin Garak occupied, at least   
as far as he could tell: a small sitting area with a canvas covered   
couch, a wood burning fireplace that hadn't been used for awhile due to   
the unseasonably warm weather, a desk with a simple comm unit, and a   
separate table. There was no kitchen or place for food storage, nor was   
there a replicator unit or recycler. There were three doors toward the   
back leading to two bedrooms with a bathroom in the middle. He went to   
the bathroom and stripped down then sat on the toilet, reaching over to   
turn the taps.

This is nice, he thought as the tub filled. It was practically a resort   
compared to some of the rougher places he'd visited. Hell, compared to   
some of the apartments he and his parents had lived in before they moved   
in with his grandfather, this was a palace.

"A palace with hot running water," he said with a sigh, testing the   
temperature with his fingertips.

When the tub was full Julian tossed in a washcloth and grabbed a bar of   
soap from the shelf then eased himself into the water. He groaned in   
pleasure as the heat seeped into his bones.

"Hot bath with real water, nice little girl who thinks you hung the   
stars - if it wasn't for the fact that Garak hated you, the boy looked   
at you like you had two heads and fangs, and your career was in the   
proverbial crapper, this really would be a vacation, hm, Jules?"

Julian ducked his head under the water, held his breath, then surfaced   
and began scrubbing at his skin. Garak hates me, he thought. No, hate   
doesn't quite cut it - Garak loathes me.

And why wouldn't he? For years he basically kept Garak in the background   
like he was something to could fall back on just in case. Garak risks   
his life to save him - losing everything in the process – "And I'm so   
fucking self-involved that I lash out at him because he had the gall to   
fall in love with me." Julian finished out loud.

No, not quite. That isn't entirely accurate, is it? Garak fell in love   
with Julian Bashir, that's the problem.

Garak loved Julian Bashir, not Jules.

Julian dropped the washcloth, leaned back in the tub, and soaked in the   
heat of the water. He shut his eyes and allowed the truth to flow out of   
him. After all, he was alone. He had no one to lie to but himself.   
'Jules' put up with a lot of things from Julian, but never that.

Jules was the last bit of conscience he had.

It was Jules who spoke when Julian wanted nothing more than to hide from   
the inconvenient truth.

Like right now.

"You're pissed off because you were so good at hiding who you were that   
even Garak couldn't tell the difference between the real you and the   
identity you manufactured."

Everything he had learned in the aftermath of the Founder's death had   
revealed that to him. The Founders only knew what Julian himself said on   
his personal logs. He had created that thing, supplied it not with who   
he was but who he wanted the world to think he was. So, instead of the   
Founder being Jules Bashir, the son of a frequently out-of-work father   
and a mother who was so meek and shy she allowed her husband to   
virtually ruin them, he became Julian Bashir, privileged son of two   
dynamic and successful people who loved their perfect son more than   
anything.

The Founders had been so off-base with their ruse it was ridiculous. At   
least it would have been ridiculous had Julian not hidden 'Jules' for so   
long. No one even questioned it. No one.

And it was all his own fault. Not Garak's, his.

He had told his parents he hadn't called himself 'Jules' for years - and   
publicly, he hadn't. 'Jules' was the identity he kept hidden, but it was   
what he called himself in private. 'Jules' was whom he confessed to,   
whom he conspired with: 'Jules' was whom he would never, could never   
stop being.

And had he let Jules out of the closet just once, just showed the world   
who he was, none of this would have happened.

Jules was always his toughest critic as well.

He reached for the small shampoo bottle and washed his hair quickly, his   
eyes tight shut. So why was he so mad at Garak? After all, how could he   
have known?

Because, damn it, he should have known. Perhaps everyone else had been   
fooled, but Garak wasn't just anyone else. He was a fucking spy, for   
Christ's sake! His whole life had been about deception - he should have   
seen through that thing. After all, he confessed that he'd always known   
about the enhancements, right? Well, the Founder had said he did, but   
Garak hadn't denied it. What had he been thinking? There must have been   
clues, missteps in the thing's behavior. Some part of him still couldn't   
understand how that had happened - how Garak's perspective had become so   
skewed that he hadn't seen it.

He rinsed off and got out of the tub, snatching a thick towel from the   
shelf over the toilet as he finger-combed his hair and padded over to   
the sink, his footsteps leaving neglectful puddles on the floor. He   
looked in the mirror and scowled as he wrapped the towel around his   
waist. Just admit it. Admit it and move on.

Garak had fallen in love with Julian Bashir, but the man in the mirror   
wasn't Julian Bashir, is he? There was no Julian Bashir. The Founder was   
closer to being that man then 'Julian' ever was. Garak, smart and   
cunning though he was, fell for a lie. He didn't want Jules, the tough,   
street-smart cockney who'd had to fight for everything he earned: he   
wanted Julian, the paper-thin veneer of witty West End urbanity whose   
posh accent was 'plus royal que le roi lui-meme'. No, the true man   
behind the fiction was definitely not Elim Garak's type. He was more   
like ginger beer or oatmeal stout than fine kanaar. How could he compete   
with a man he himself created? The answer is: he couldn't.

So that was that. End of story. Time, gentlemen; the pub is closed and   
the taps have run dry.

Julian snorted and walked into the main room to get his shaving kit,   
pulling out his toothbrush as he returned to the sink.

He examined his face again before switching on the brush and briefly   
considered shaving but decided against it. It was late and he was tired.   
Stubble was one of the perks of his sort-of suspension anyway, right?   
That and jeans with running shoes. Life was a fucking cabaret.

He brushed his teeth quickly and rinsed his mouth. After using a second   
towel to mop up the floor, he went back in the main room for his bags   
and pulled them into the room that didn't contain any of the things   
Okuna had left behind. He made a mental note to comm Okuna and see if he   
wanted him to bring him his things at the end of the week.

The room was cool but not cold. There were clever vents built above the   
windows to bring in fresh air without allowing in the rain which was   
pounding and howling against the walls of the small house. A slow-moving   
ceiling fan supplied the rest of the air circulation. Julian dragged in   
his bags and stacked them in the corner. He opened up the largest bag   
and rummaged around until he found his favorite pair of worn in pajamas.   
Being a doctor on a space station had taught him never to go to bed   
without being fully clothed. Between the red alerts and the occasional   
uninvited guest standing over him as he slept, he'd become a bit   
paranoid about doing so, in fact. He also frequently changed his door   
security code...not that it seemed to help.

He got into bed and closed his eyes, listening to the howling wind and   
the scrape of the trees against the shutters. He was tired, exhausted   
both mentally and physically, but he couldn't sleep.

He punched the pillow under his head and attempted to settle in.

His mind wandered back to the night he had awoken to find Garak staring   
at his sleeping form. How long he'd been there he had no idea. It may   
have only been seconds, but somehow he didn't think so. It had been an   
uncomfortable feeling, the idea of Garak staring at him as he slept, but   
he hadn't been afraid. Even after he knew what Garak was, what he was   
capable of, he had never feared him. Perhaps it was like tugging a tiger   
by the tail and hoping he was tamed, but even now, even with the   
wreckage of their friendship between them, he was drawn to the man.

What was it that kept him tied to Elim Garak? Why couldn't he just let   
him go?

Competition.

That was it. Julian didn't like losing anything, and he especially   
didn't like it when someone else put their hands on his toys. Childish   
though it may be, Garak was *his*. He found him, he put up with the man   
for five years, he listened to every lie, half-truth, and innuendo - so,   
what? He was supposed to just accept that the Founder waltzed onto his   
turf and staked a claim on what, by rights, belonged to him? Fuck that!   
He had put in the time and the effort. Whether he ever intended to do   
anything about it was his choice, not that of some pile of sentient   
gelatin! And now, thanks to Jelly Boy, he was stuck on Bajor - well,   
exiled really - and forced to deal with emotions he'd really rather not   
confront.

Julian shut his eyes tighter and rolled onto his side. It wasn't fair.   
None of this was fair. Life wasn't fair, of course, but this was especially-

The door of his bedroom opened; someone was crossing the room toward   
him. He froze.

"Garak?" he said, opening his eyes.

"I had a bad dream."

Julian sat up in bed and turned on the lamp, wincing as the light   
flooded the room. "Kela." He squinted at her and took in her bare, muddy   
feet, wet hair and nightie, and the soggy stuffed wompat doll clutched   
in her hand. "What-?"

"I dreamed that you got lost again," she said, stepping closer. "So I   
got woked up and came to make sure you were okay."

"You came all the way over here in the rain?"

"Uh huh. I'm cold," she said, shivering.

"Okay..." Julian looked around and tried to think. "Okay, you need a   
bath." He got up and took her hand, leading her to the bathroom, where   
he put the stopper in the tub and turned on the taps, testing the water   
as he did so. "You're four, right?"

"Uh huh, but I'll be five in a little while."

"Do you know how to take a bath by yourself?"

"I'm not a baby, you know," she said irritably. "I'm *four*."

"I'm sorry, you're right." Julian held up his hands in apology. "You're   
a very big girl."

"No, I'm still little. I just know how to take a bath by myself. You've   
had a long day, huh, Dr. Julian?" She gave him a pitying look.

"Actually, I really have," Julian answered honestly and rubbed the back   
of his neck. "Um, okay; you need to get undressed." He looked around the   
room and pointed to the hamper. "Just take off your...gown and other,   
you know, things, and put them in there and I'll be outside if you need   
anything."

"Okay," Kela said as she began to pull her nightgown over her head   
before Julian could even close the door.

He shut the door quickly, leaning against it as he tried to figure out   
what to do next. He was never very good with children one on one.   
Patients who were children, yes. Children in general, no. Especially not   
little girls who acted like miniaturized versions of Garak.

"Think, Jules," he muttered, "you're a strange man and a guest in a   
monastery with a naked little girl in your quarters in the middle of the   
night. Now what?" He rubbed his hand over his mouth and tried to think   
of what his next move should be. "She needs something to wear but her   
things are dirty. What do you do? T-shirt!"

Julian went over to his bag and started to pull out clothes, tossing   
them aside as he went. "No, no, no - damn. These will swallow her whole.   
She needs something smaller."

He walked into the living area and stared at the door. God, he was going   
to have enough to explain without compounding things by walking into the   
children's dormitory in the middle of the night looking for a nightie.   
Not good.

So not good.

You're making a bigger deal of this than you need to, he told himself.   
Just think. Get those enhanced neurons firing, man!

He walked over to the bathroom door, paused, then knocked hesitantly.   
"Kela?"

He heard a huge splash and some bubbling laughter. "Uh huh?"

"You okay in there?"

"I made bubbles with the shampoo!" Another splash.

"How much shampoo did you use?"

"All of it!" More splashes. "It made BIG bubbles!"

"Yeah, okay, great." Julian rolled his eyes and grimaced. "Just...don't   
get any in your eyes, okay?"

"I won't!" SPLASH!

"Kela?"

"Uh huh?"

"Does Garak have any of your clothes in his cabin?"

"I don't know. I think so."

"Will you be okay by yourself for a while?"

"Dr. Julian! I told you, I'm not-

"A baby. I got that," Julian finished for her. "Okay, I'm going to go   
find you something to wear. You stay here and-"

There was another big splash and Julian looked down to see water running   
from under the door and pooling at his feet.

"Try to keep at least some of the water *in* the tub, okay?"

"Oh-Kay!" More bubbly giggles followed.

Julian found a torch and shoved his bare feet into his boots, then   
headed out toward Garak's cabin. By the time he got there he was wishing   
he had bought a raincoat from Ajaz and vowed to pick one up the next   
time he was on the station.

Rain.

One didn't normally encounter rain on a space station so naturally he'd   
never thought of the possibility that he'd be stuck in the middle of the   
night looking for children's pajamas in the middle of a bloody monsoon.

"Your parents deserve a refund, Jules. You're definitely not quite as   
advertised. Bloody hell - Garak!" He knocked on the door. "Garak! Open   
up - I need some help!"

He waited a second then knocked again. "Garak!"

The sound of the rain and the howling of the wind were drowning out his   
voice. He wiped the water out of his eyes with the back of his fist that   
was clutching the torch and tried knocking again. "Garak! Come on, man!   
I'm freezing my bloody balls off out here!"

He reached for the doorknob and turned it experimentally. The knob   
turned easily. A gust of wind blew through and he lost his grip causing   
the door to open with a crash. "Oh shit! Sorry!" Julian said, wincing as   
he walked into Garak's cabin, flicking on the light and placing his   
torch on the desk.

Julian waited at the threshold for Garak to come out of his bedroom in a   
rage, but nothing happened.

He looked around, shutting the door firmly behind him then walked toward   
Garak's bedroom door. He knocked, "Garak?"

Still nothing.

Maybe he's not home? Julian thought. But it was the middle of the night,   
where else would he...

Oh.

Julian felt a prickle of irritation. He hadn't had sex in six months -   
hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had so much as a good   
wank in the bloody shower - and Garak was getting laid in a fucking   
monastery! Oh yeah, he's really torn up about the whole making a fool of   
himself over me thing. Shithead.

He swung open the door to Garak's bedroom, intending to search around   
for something Kela could wear when he saw something move from the corner   
of his eyes.

Garak was lying in bed, his chest bare and the covers bunched at his   
waist. He appeared to be in the throes of a vivid dream, his body bathed   
in a light sweat and his face contorted in either pain or ecstasy.

From the way the man was gripping the sheets and babbling in his sleep,   
Julian was betting on pain. He was having a hell of a nightmare.

"Garak." Julian walked over to the bed. "Garak! Wake up!"

He was muttering in his sleep, "no no no no no..."

"Garak?" He gave his shoulder a tentative shake.

"-wake up Anwen, don't leave me, don't go, noooo-"

"Garak!" Julian said sharply.

Garak sat bolt upright in the bed, his eyes wild and his chest heaving.   
Julian jumped back and waited for the man to acknowledge his presence.

Garak pulled his knee up, resting his elbow on it as he attempted to   
catch his breath. After a moment he turned to Julian and squinted in   
confusion, "What-?"

"Payback's a bitch," Julian said in a feeble attempt to fill the silence.

"I'm really not in the mood for this, doctor," Garak said in a   
sleep-graveled voice.

"Sorry." Julian shifted from one foot to the other. "Kela - she had a   
bad dream. Um, she showed up in my cabin soaked to the bone so I had her   
take a bath but I don't have anything for her to change into..."

"I think I have something," Garak said, clearing his throat. He swung   
his legs over the side of the bed.

Julian turned away quickly as the covers fell away revealing an even   
greater degree of nakedness than he was expecting. "Sorry - I'll, um.   
I'll just go."

As he hurried into the living area he thought, Garak sleeps in the nude?

Garak sleeps in the nude.

Garak. In the nude.

I. Am. Completely. Mortified, a voice in the back of his head said.

And yet there was that other voice that said, Garak is in really good   
shape. *Really* good shape.

And naked.

Julian had seen Garak in various states of undress before, during   
surgery and physicals, but the miracle of modern medicine meant that   
doctors rarely had to examine their patients unclothed any more. They   
could even perform bloodless surgery, so he'd seen some of what he   
saw...just not all of it at the same time.

Well, there was the video surveillance on the station. After Garak and   
Worf had rescued them from the prison asteroid, they were forced to   
return to the station and pretend that they weren't aware of the   
Founder's ruse. When the Founder had attempted to seduce Garak he'd gone   
along with it as best he could. Unable to get an erection, he instead   
distracted the shapeshifter by performing fellatio to keep up the   
facade. It wasn't the most pleasant memory, especially given the pain   
and humiliation he'd seen reflected in the other man's face...

"Doctor."

Julian jumped and turned. "Um, sorry - yes?"

Garak was in a robe and sleep pants, the vee of the robe revealing that   
he was still naked from the waist up. He held out a gown along with some   
socks and a pair of panties. "I always keep extra play clothes here for   
the children, especially for Kela. She has a tendency to attract dirt. I   
was making her some embroidered nightgowns for her birthday next month   
so I had this on hand."

"It's pretty." Julian had no clue what to say as he accepted the blue   
satin gown but 'it's pretty' was what came out. His face glowed an even   
deeper red than before.

Garak either didn't notice or merely ignored it. "I had a great deal of   
material left over from a dress I made her for-" Garak stopped and   
clenched his jaw. He tore his eyes off of the gown now held in Julian's   
hands and asked, "You said you gave her a bath?"

"Well, she gave herself a bath, but yes. In fact, she was still in it   
when-" Julian watched as a pained expression crossed Garak's face. "What?"

"You left her alone in the tub?" Garak shook his head and sighed, then   
headed toward the bathroom. "Of course you did."

"Was that wrong? She's not going to drown or anything, is she?" Julian   
asked, following Garak.

"No, but the floors of the guest quarters will never be the same again."   
Garak came out with an armful of towels. "Lead the way, doctor."

*****

Julian stacked a small pile of wood in the fireplace and lit it with the   
tinderbox he found on the mantle while Garak dried Kela's hair with a   
towel, another tied around her like a sarong.

"And it made HUGE bubbles! You never let me make bubbles in your tub!"

"That's because I know better," Garak said wryly. "Tomorrow, young lady,   
we are going to have a long talk about getting out of your bed in the   
middle of the night and also about you dumping all that bathwater out of   
the tub."

"I was popping the bubbles," Kela said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"And you know better since I, myself, have told you not to splash water   
onto the floor how many times?"

"A whole lot."

"A whole lot," Garak agreed. "Now let's get you dressed and now that the   
rain has stopped we'll head over to my cabin and let Dr. Julian get some   
sleep, all right?"

"No."

"Kela..."

"I want to stay here with Dr. Julian."

"Kela, I've had just about enough of this-"

"It's okay, Garak," Julian interrupted. "She can stay in Okuna's room   
tonight."

"I don't know," Garak said with a frown.

"It's late and it doesn't make any sense to drag her back out into that   
weather," Julian argued.

Garak shook his head. "I don't want it to look as though we're condoning   
this type of behavior."

"I understand that, and normally I'd agree, but it's late and we're all   
tired. In fact, if you want you could use Dr. Okuna's room yourself and   
we can make up the couch for Kela in here."

"I can make it to my own quarters, thank you doctor," Garak said with a   
cool edge to his voice. He picked Kela up in one arm and gathered her   
gown in his free hand, leading toward the bedroom saying, "I'm going to   
settle her in for the night."

"Goodnight, Dr. Julian!" Kela called out over Garak's shoulder.

"'Night," Julian said, waving back.

Julian waited by the couch, soaking up the heat of the fire as he   
listened to the mumble of Kela's and Garak's voices through the door.   
Several minutes later Garak emerged, shutting the door behind him   
quietly. When he saw Julian waiting for him, he froze. "Doctor."

"We need to talk."

"No, we don't," Garak said, heading for the front door. "Goodnight doctor."

"Garak," Julian said, stepping forward. "Please."

It was as though the word 'please' was the magic word his mother always   
told him it was. Garak's hand froze on the knob but he didn't turn   
around. "I'm tired."

"So am I," Julian said, taking another step toward him. "I'm so bloody   
sick and tired of ducking and dodging the issue. Aren't you? Can't we   
just fucking settle this and move on?"

"Let it go, doctor."

"I'd love to. You first," Julian said in a challenging tone.

Garak turned to him, his face gray and bereft of emotion. "When I look   
at you, I see him. Can you understand that?"

"No," Julian said honestly. "I probably should, but I don't. I can't.   
The Julian Bashir - that Julian Bashir - he's nothing like me. That   
wasn't me, Garak. I didn't do anything wrong except survive." He took   
another step toward the other man. "I handled the situation badly. I   
know that and I'm sorry, but life is too short - too goddamn short - to   
waste the next however the hell many months acting like I have something   
to apologize for. I did not do anything to you-" Garak opened his mouth   
as if to speak and Julian cut him off. "-I know, I chickened out and   
left you alone in the Infirmary, but I never abandoned you. Okuna kept   
me informed of your progress the whole time."

Garak fell silent as he seemed to mull that over.

"I won't lie to you, I wanted to put some distance between us - gain   
some perspective. It took me a while but - fuck, I was gone for three   
months and everything I once thought about myself, my position on DS9,   
everything - all of it changed, Garak. Cut me some slack: at least give   
me credit for not going insane!"

"Fine, you have a point." Garak looked him in the eye. "But as you   
pointed out to me once before, our relationship previous to your   
abduction was one of platonic friendship. You now have an advantage over   
me, doctor. You know now that what I felt toward you was not mere   
friendship and you've also seen me at my most vulnerable, whereas I   
don't know you at all. You say that everything I thought I knew is a   
lie. I can accept that, I can even admire the fact that you managed to   
conceal yourself as well as you did, but we cannot be friends now.   
Surely you can understand why."

"Then what else can we be, Garak?" Julian asked quietly.

Garak didn't answer. He merely stared at him for a long moment before   
opening the door and walking out into the night.


	3. The Alpha and The Omega

CHAPTER THREE: The Alpha and The Omega

 

 

"Zee, baby, please."

Ziyal sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She reached   
down to pick up Jake's shirt which was lying on the floor and slipped it   
on. "Can we not talk about this again, Jake? Can't we just...just be   
together and not talk about it?"

His voice was gentle. "We have to talk about it," he said, letting his   
hand rest on her arm as he sat up. "It's not going to go away on its own."

She turned to him. "Do you want me to terminate-"

"No!" he cried. "That's the last thing I want." He wrapped his arms   
around her waist, his hands skimming her belly. "I love you and I want   
us to be married and have the baby. I just wish you'd stop running away   
from this - from me."

"I'm not running away. I just - I don't think this is a good idea."

"The baby?" he asked softly.

"No," she answered. "Talking about us getting married. I already told   
you that you don't have to do that."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't mean it, Zee."

She peeked out at him through her hair, her eyes bright with anxiety.   
"It's not a good idea. Your father-"

Jake placed a gentle hand on her abdomen. "What did I say to you the   
first time I asked you out? When you said no?"

"Jake..."

"What did I say?" he prodded. "Do you remember? I followed you around   
for hours that day, I practically stalked you."

She leaned into his embrace. "I was so angry. You wouldn't stop   
following me around and I told you to stop pestering me."

"And what did I say?"

"'Sorry, pretty lady, but where you go, I go. That's the way it's going   
to be from now on because...because I'm never as happy as I am when I   
look at you,'" she said, smiling in spite of herself. "You'd known me   
ten minutes and already you were spouting the most horrendous lines at me."

"And you laughed in my face, but I meant every word of it." He took her   
hand. "You are my future, Tora Ziyal, whether you like it or not. I'm   
not leaving, Zee. I'm not letting go. You can keep trying to push me   
away but it isn't going to happen. Why can't you trust me enough to let   
me in? I'm a part of this, it's happening to both of us."

"No, Jake." Ziyal pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around   
herself. "You wouldn't be asking if-"

"Zee, I would have married you the first week we were together if you   
would have agreed to it," he said. "Damn it, girl! You should already   
know that."

She closed her eyes. "It's just...I - I'm scared."

"I know you are. And you know what? So am I. I nearly lost it the other   
day in the Infirmary. Doctor Bashir nearly had to sedate me!"

She spun around and looked up at him. "You didn't tell him, did you?"   
she said, her eyes full of fear. "If he-"

"Of course not," he replied. "You know I wouldn't."

She swallowed. "I just...I don't want Garak to find out."

A muscle jumped in Jake's jaw. "Garak."

"You don't understand."

"You're right; I don't understand. How can I understand when you never   
tell me anything? Every time I turn around you're running off to Bajor   
to spend time with him!" His eyes suddenly narrowed. "Are you and he-"

"No!" she cried, horrified. "Prophets, no! I've told you, Jake - Garak   
and I just talk."

"About what? What can you tell him that you can't tell me?"

"It's not - it's not what we talk about, Jake. It's the *way* he talks   
to me, do you understand?" She looked at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"No. Explain it to me."

"When Garak talks to me he looks at me - at *me*," she said, leaning   
against his chest. "Not at Dukat's daughter or some hybrid that should   
have been put down at birth, but me. He's the only person who's ever   
done that."

"And I don't?"

She sighed. "I love you, Jake, I do, but Garak..."

"What?" Jake said, pressing on.

She looked up at him, just for a moment. "When I was a little girl I   
used to dream of my father. I know what he is - even then I knew - but I   
had this stupid fantasy about him sweeping down from the sky and just   
reaching out to me. I wanted a father, Jake, like your father; I wanted   
someone to love me and accept me for who I am, not what I am or where I   
came from."

"And Garak does that?" Jake asked doubtfully.

"He never judged me, he never looked at me like I was something to be   
ashamed of or like I wasn't good enough." She paused. "I'm not stupid; I   
know he only started talking to me to annoy Father. After a while,   
though, it stopped being about that. It's like by talking to me he got   
something back as well. Even now, even though he's on Bajor and has   
other kids to look after, he still makes time for me."

"Then why don't you want him to know about the baby?" he asked. "If you   
know he cares about you, why are you so afraid?"

Her voice was barely a whisper. "I don't want to disappoint him-"

"You won't. Trust me."

"-and I don't want to disappoint you either."

He frowned at her. "What?"

She looked down at her hands. "When I told you, you were so happy. I   
hadn't ever seen you like that before. I...I don't feel the same, not   
completely, and sometimes I wonder if you're disappointed that I don't.   
And I get so worried about how you must feel about me that I have to get   
away from the station and go down to Bajor, to be with Garak and the   
children. I just need to think about something other than the baby, and   
you and me, and what's going to happen when people find out. But with   
you..." and she lifted her eyes to his, "these days, that's all there is."

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put that pressure on you. But I'm not   
disappointed in you, Zee; I'm worried."

"But what if Garak thinks-"

"Zee," he said, "if Garak really cares about you, he'll be happy for us.   
That goes for my dad and your dad as well. If not, who cares? We are the   
ones who have to live our lives, Zee. This is about you and me, and our   
child."

He felt her frown against his throat. "You're not worried?"

"Of course I'm worried. You're sick, Zee. You've been cramping and   
throwing up, you've been so tired lately, and you've got a fever - I can   
feel it. This isn't normal." Jake allowed her to hear the concern in his   
voice. "Major Kira never did any of that with the O'Briens' baby."

"I'm half-Cardassian. Maybe it has something to do with that?"

He looked down into her eyes and caressed her cheek. "I want to make sure."

Ziyal looked at him pleadingly. "Can we just wait a while longer? Just a   
day or two, please? Maybe we could find a doctor away from the station   
if you're that worried - take a trip?"

"Zee..." Jake began.

"Please."

Jake rubbed the back of his neck wearily. "Two days. I'll ask around -   
but discreetly, I promise. If you get any worse, though..."

"I won't. I feel better already. Really." She let the shirt fall from   
her shoulders, reaching up to draw Jake down into a soft kiss.

Desire overrode good sense as Jake pushed from his mind all the things   
he meant to say. He laid his lover on the bed and made slow, tender love   
to her. When they were done and Ziyal was fast asleep, her head pillowed   
on his chest, he cradled her in his arms as his mind wandered.

He had never loved like this before. He wasn't very experienced   
sexually; Ziyal was only the second woman he'd ever taken to bed. His   
first time with a woman had been a fumbled and clumsy affair, tragically   
mortifying for him and amusing to his far more experienced partner. It   
also hadn't been anything more than a stopgap, a tension reliever, at   
least for her anyway. He had thought he was in love, but the affection   
and desire he'd felt for Kaleeta was nothing like what he felt for Ziyal.

Kaleeta was...drama and hot burning desire. There was no real connection   
between them other than sex. Whenever they tried to talk about something   
they either wound up arguing or tumbling into bed. When she dumped him   
he thought his heart was broken forever, but then he met Ziyal.

She was different. With Ziyal he could talk about the things that were   
important to him and she really listened. She didn't get mad at him   
because he was busy doing something that didn't center around her. She   
was so smart and funny, quiet but thoughtful and easy to be with. One   
day he just said to himself, this is it. He'd heard his granddad talk   
about his grandmother like that and his dad talk about his mom; now he   
knew exactly what they were saying. It was like something amazing; it   
was that *moment* when it all comes together and you just know. It   
didn't matter that they were so young or that they came from such   
different backgrounds, they just clicked. It was like two halves coming   
together. Ziyal was the center of his life: the one. Period.

She opened herself up, gave her whole heart to him as well as her body.   
With her it was lovemaking, this crazy passion that was fast and furious   
on the floor two feet from the bed some days and sweet and slow on   
others. He loved her with a fire he hadn't even known was possible.

And then she'd become pregnant. He'd wondered if his jealousy towards   
Garak hadn't made him subconsciously forget his booster. It was a guilty   
thought, one he didn't like to admit having, but still it was there.   
He'd always been religious about his boosters until he and Ziyal became   
serious. She wouldn't get the shots because she was afraid word would   
get to her father through the rampant gossip grapevine on the station.   
The wrong person walking in at the wrong time and she'd be disowned. She   
was so scared of him, of the fact that Dukat could snatch away his love   
so easily.

He tried to tell her that real love is something that doesn't end just   
because you do something the other person doesn't happen to agree with.   
Ziyal wouldn't listen. After all, what else did she know? Life had shown   
her differently.

Jake had little regard for Dukat in any case. Not just for his past or   
the run-ins with his father, but for his treatment of Ziyal both then   
and now. They never spoke of Ziyal's past. He knew some, of course. The   
rest he'd guessed at or filled in the blanks. She wasn't a virgin when   
they first made love but she had approached it with a virgin's fear of   
the unknown. She hadn't been gently loved before him and she bore scars,   
mentally and physically, from her time in the slave encampment. She   
never said she had been raped, but it was obvious. The Breen would have   
had no use for sexual slaves, but there had been Cardassians and members   
of other species in the camp to whom a thirteen-year-old girl who was   
fine-boned and willowy would have been too great of a temptation to pass   
up.

She had loved him with a trust that he found profoundly touching,   
especially considering what she had gone through. When they first met   
she had been shy and aloof, but as they grew closer she blossomed. She   
made him feel ten feet tall some days; it was a heady feeling to be   
needed by someone. It was when she'd started to see Garak that things   
changed. She was no longer as available to him, no longer saw him as her   
guide on Deep Space Nine. The closer she became to the older man, the   
more Jake pursued her. When the Founder who was disguised as Dr. Bashir   
began a relationship with the Cardassian, Ziyal came back to him.   
Suddenly he was her sun and moon and life was good again.

He had taken his boosters once every three months, on time and as usual,   
but then the Founder was revealed and Garak fled the station. Ziyal   
disappeared with him, leaving for days sometimes. At first he'd been   
supportive, then jealous. He wanted her here with him but she was   
slipping away. He did not plan the pregnancy, he really didn't, but when   
his boosters came due he pushed them off. He told himself he was too   
busy, that the boosters worked for at least a month after the doctors   
said they did; three months was a conservative estimate. Then one day he   
simply forgot to make an excuse - forgot altogether in fact. Even so,   
when Ziyal became pregnant he was happy, proud that he was going to be a   
father. Just the idea that a piece of him was growing inside of her,   
that a child existed that was half him and half Ziyal, amazed and   
thrilled him. He wondered about why he hadn't been at all shocked. He   
hadn't planned it...but subconsciously he may have wanted this the whole   
time. Now she was his and would always be his no matter what. As selfish   
as that sounded - and he knew it was selfish - he was finally at peace.

A little boy or girl with his skin tone and Ziyal's delicate   
features...the thought made him smile. He'd gone out and found as much   
information on hybrid pregnancies as he could. He monitored her diet and   
was concerned and supportive. He was determined to be the best father   
and husband he could be. He wanted to prove to Ziyal that this would work.

His dream was to be a writer and for he and Zee to have at least a half   
dozen kids and a house in the country; he wanted them to be on solid   
ground both physically and emotionally. It wasn't the usual fantasy of a   
nineteen-year-old man, but after a life of uncertainty, something real   
and stable was at his fingertips.

His joy, however, was currently drowned out by the guilt at how sick   
Ziyal had become. It had sapped every bit of energy from her; she was   
sleeping too much, vomiting too much, and the pain...

The guilt had made him a little crazy. He hadn't been eating right or   
sleeping, and he told Ziyal he'd agree to termination if she wanted it   
even though the idea made him sick. This was his baby, his child, and   
he'd never wanted anything so much before.

But as much as he wanted this for them, he wanted Ziyal infinitely more.

He wrapped his arms around her and tried to sleep. Keep her safe, God,   
he thought. No matter what else happens, just let me keep Zee safe.

 

******

 

The senior staff members gathered at the airlock to greet their new   
temporary commander. It was a barebones reception given that Worf was   
away with Sisko at the peace summit and Dax had been ordered to take the   
Defiant out on patrol with an unfamiliar crew made up of officers from   
the Venture, Captain Figueiredo's ship. Julian was, of course, gone, so   
Dan Okuna and Girani Mirat had both come in his place as the senior   
medical officers, representing the Starfleet and the Bajoran crews.   
Other than Okuna, Miles was the only other member of Starfleet in   
attendance. Odo stood by Kira's side, obviously impatient at being taken   
away from his duties.

"If he's not going to show up I do have other matters to attend to,   
Major," he grumbled. "A shipful of Nalizian traders just docked and they   
can be worse than a handful of Klingons on a blood wine binge when they   
get started. The last time they were here they started a brawl in   
Quark's that took out half the bar."

"The Tobin docked half an hour ago, Odo," Kira said, keeping her own   
irritation at being forced to wait in check. "I'm sure he was just held   
up or something."

Okuna yawned and shifted his feet, shrugging apologetically. "Sorry, I'm   
still adjusting to going back to extended shifts. Which reminds me, when   
are we getting in a replacement for Dr. Bashir?"

"We shouldn't need to get a replacement for Bashir," Girani retorted.   
"This whole thing is ridiculous if you ask me."

"Hear, hear," Miles muttered in agreement.

"Look, we are all going to have to just deal with this and move on,"   
Kira broke in. "The captain will be back in a week or two and everything   
will go back to normal again. Until then, we'll just have to make the   
best of it."

"Well, unless this fella shows up soon I have to go," Miles said. "We're   
still completing upgrades to the power supply and I have a laundry list   
of other repairs to get to today."

"Hey, Chief?" Okuna asked. "Pereira said you'd heard of this MacKelroy.   
What's his story?"

"Used to be an American football player - tough SOB too from what I   
hear. Don't know much about his service record except that he's got a   
reputation for being a hard ass." Miles said with a shrug. "Been stuck   
behind a desk since he got his knee replacement but that's all I know."

"Great, another weekend warrior who thinks he can handle the operation   
of a forward installation," Girani grumbled.

At that moment the airlock doors opened and MacKelroy stepped out.   
Kira's first impression of the man was that he was big - very big.   
Taller than Sisko and twice as broad, the man was built like a Klingon.   
He sure doesn't look like a desk jockey to me, she thought.

She stepped forward and extended her hand. "Commander. I'm Major Kira   
Nerys. Welcome to Deep Space Nine."

He looked at her hand without taking it and glanced around at the other   
assembled senior staff. "Is this it?"

Kira dropped her hand and squared her shoulders, her irritation   
building. "Commander Worf is with Captain Sisko and Commander Dax is on   
the Defiant." She gestured toward Odo who was standing to her right.   
"This is-"

"Major," he said as he looked down his nose at her, "I've already been   
briefed; don't waste my time." He swept his gaze over the motley crowd.   
"We'll convene in the wardroom. After you, Major?"

Kira gritted her teeth at the man's high-handed attitude. "Yes, sir."

****

They assembled in the wardroom. Kira was about to pull out her usual   
chair when MacKelroy frowned at her. "Don't sit down," he said as he   
reached the head of the table. "I intend to make this brief."

Okuna, who was already half-way seated, got up awkwardly and looked   
around in slight embarrassment. Girani and Odo stood there stiffly,   
glaring daggers at the Commander. Miles took a resigned breath and   
glanced at the chrono. Kira felt a flush of anger run through her as   
MacKelroy sat, after ordering them not to, and again kept them waiting   
while he decided what to say.

After a long pause, Commander MacKelroy began to speak. "From what I   
have read about this station and from what the Admiral has told me   
personally, I can tell you right now that I am not impressed with your   
performance to date." He allowed that to sink in, examining each one of   
their expressions before continuing. "In fact, I am downright   
embarrassed as a Starfleet officer and citizen of the Federation that   
this installation has fallen into the habit of kowtowing to a bunch of   
locals to the point that," and he chuckled humorlessly, "not only have   
you left this station wide open to infiltration but you've managed to   
put the entire Alpha Quadrant in jeopardy. This policy of indulging the   
superstitions and whims of the Bajorans and their so-called Prophets   
ends today." He banged his hand against the table in emphasis. "Benjamin   
Sisko doesn't live here any more, people. This is my show from here on out."

That did it. "Excuse me, Commander," Kira said, her irritation evident   
in her sharp tone, "but you seem to be under the mistaken impression   
that Captain Sisko isn't returning in two weeks."

"And you are under the mistaken impression that he will be," MacKelroy   
shot back. "Benjamin Sisko, from what I've heard of him, is a good man   
and a good officer, or at least he used to be. The simple fact is he's   
gone native. I feel I'm not speaking out of turn when I say that Command   
wants him out. After the peace talks, he will be reassigned. I'm telling   
you people, here and now, that my assignment here is not temporary. I   
will be here for the long haul. This is a Starfleet installation and it   
will be run as such."

Girani lifted her hand and spoke up. "Pardon me. I don't mean to   
interrupt your little speech or anything, but last time I looked this   
was a *Bajoran* station. I could be wrong though, after all I've only   
been here - what: for five and a half years? I realize you've been here   
all of five minutes and know more about it than I do, but still, a   
little clarification would be nice. When exactly did First Minister   
Shakaar decide to just give the station away? I must have missed the memo."

"And you would be?" MacKelroy asked, eyeballing her as he sat back in   
his chair.

"Dr. Girani Mirat. I'm the senior Bajoran medical officer on staff."

"Well, Dr. Mirat-" he began.

"Dr. Girani," she said sharply.

"Dr. Girani," he corrected. "First of all, you're right, this is a   
*Bajoran* station, but Starfleet is keeping it in the sky, Starfleet is   
footing the bill for that snazzy little Infirmary of yours, and   
Starfleet personnel and vessels are the ones defending it. If Bajor   
wants to take an issue with any of that then they can learn to make do   
without Starfleet supporting them. Bajor has been offered the   
opportunity to join the Federation since the Occupation ended but   
instead your government has been languishing on the Federation's dime.   
The Dominion isn't as patient as we are, Doctor, and it's come time to   
piss or get off the pot. We are fully prepared to build our own station   
if need be, and probably will. Deep Space Nine is rundown and, as I   
understand it, we've spent more man-hours in trying to convert this   
rusted out tin wheel from a processing plant to a functioning and   
defendable installation than it would have taken to simply build a much   
more advanced and better armed facility. Until then, the Provisional   
Government better get used to the idea that this station is no longer in   
Bajoran hands or they can get chummy with the Jem'Hadar. If you or any   
other members of the Bajoran militia don't like it, feel free to catch   
the next shuttle to Bajor and don't let the airlock hit you on the way out."

Kira felt her blood boil as she placed her hands on the table and leaned   
in toward MacKelroy, "And let me clarify this for you, Commander -   
Captain Sisko put *me* in charge of this 'tin wheel' in his absence and   
I am the ranking Bajoran officer on this station. I don't know who the   
hell gave you the idea you could waltz in here and basically decide to   
plant a Federation flag on Bajoran property but I can promise you that   
if anyone is going to be leaving on the next shuttle it will be you!"

"Maybe so, Major," MacKelroy responded. "But I doubt it. My orders come   
from Admiral Ross himself. Feel free to contact Headquarters if you   
like, but you'll find that they'll just back up what I just told you."   
He looked around the room. "I'm going to be conducting performance   
reviews on all Starfleet officers and their subordinates and new relief   
crews will be brought in within the month. I'm here to clean house. If   
any of you," and he offered Okuna and O'Brien a sarcastic grin, "or   
should I say *either* of you, feel your job may be in jeopardy and wish   
to avoid the review, feel free to request a transfer to the assignment   
of your choice. This is being offered as a courtesy, gentlemen. Don't   
take too long in deciding. As for the Bajoran crews..." He looked at   
Kira, Odo, and Girani. "I'll be setting up a meeting with First Minister   
Shakaar as soon as he becomes available and we'll discuss it then. If   
you feel that you will not be able to function adequately under my   
command then, by all means, feel free to request a reassignment. Dismissed."

Kira, seething with barely contained rage, turned on her heel and left   
the room while she could still control the urge to break MacKelroy's   
neck and toss his corpse out an airlock. The others followed her out.

"That - you are going to contact Shakaar about MacKelroy's little   
diatribe in there, aren't you?" Girani demanded, jogging up to match   
Kira's angry stride as she exited Ops and headed toward the lift.

"You better believe I will." Kira turned and faced the other senior   
members of staff. "Until this matter is settled all of you need to   
continue on as usual. I promise you that I will get to the bottom of   
this by the end of the day."

O'Brien's face was grim. "It may not be as easy as you think, Major.   
I've seen officers like MacKelroy before. They don't issue blanket   
statements like the one he did back in the wardroom unless he has   
someone bigger than him backing it up."

Okuna nodded. "He might be right, Major. When I told Garak about   
Zimmerman reporting Dr. Bashir to Headquarters, he said then that it   
seemed a bit strange that he would be picked for the LMH program so soon   
after his return from the Gamma Quadrant. Maybe it's just from living in   
Garak's back pocket for the last few months, but this whole thing seems   
a little contrived to me, like someone's been setting this whole thing   
up for a while. Sisko and Worf being called away, Dr. Bashir's   
suspension, Commander Dax being reassigned to patrol with the Venture's   
crew - I think someone wanted MacKelroy's arrival to coincide with all   
that. Made it easier for him to clean house and assert dominance. And,"   
he added, "call me crazy, but I doubt even Ross has the pull to do all   
that. Something as radical as what MacKelroy has planned would have to   
be authorized by someone a lot higher up than even Admiral Ross - *if*   
what he said is accurate."

"Intricate and far-fetched conspiracies have their appeal, and normally   
I would be more than happy to explore Mr. Garak's and your theories.   
Unfortunately, it doesn't change the fact that I still have a job to do.   
Major," Odo said with a nod before taking off toward the Promenade.

"Odo's right," Kira said. "Return to your duties. I contact you as soon   
as I know anything."

******

"Shakaar, the man didn't just imply that the station was no longer a   
Bajoran asset, he said it outright!" Kira said angrily.

"I heard you the first time, Nerys." Shakaar said, his features grim as   
she spoke to him over the subspace. "The fact is that we need to   
approach this carefully."

"What - Edon! What's there to think about? Call Starfleet and have this   
MacKelroy reassigned immediately!"

Shakaar ran his hand over his mouth and hunched his shoulders as he   
appeared to mull over what she was saying. "First off, you need to calm   
down - and that goes for your people as well. From what you've told me   
about this new commander, it sounds as though he's trying to get you   
angry enough that all of you will just quit without a fight and leave   
the station wide open to whatever he's planning. It's a good strategy   
and it appears to be working, so just take a step back and don't fall   
for it. I'm stuck here in the capital until tomorrow afternoon. I'll   
meet with this MacKelroy then, and believe me, we will be discussing his   
supposed appropriation of the station."

"That's it?" Kira asked incredulously.

"What do you want me to do? Go off half-cocked and cause an   
interplanetary incident over this?" he asked. "Unlike you, I don't have   
the luxury of getting pissed off and rushing over there to escort   
MacKelroy off the station. This affects all of Bajor. He's right about   
the fact that if Starfleet pulls out we won't have the resources to   
protect Bajor from the Dominion, much less from Cardassia. And if Legate   
Goris decides to follow through with what Dukat started to do and strike   
a deal with the Founders..." He shook his head. "Look, there's a good   
chance the new commander was just bluffing to get a reaction out of you.   
From what you've said, this is his first real command. Chances are he's   
just getting ahead of himself and I doubt Starfleet wants to push the   
kind of agenda MacKelroy is talking about. Removing Benjamin Sisko from   
the command of this station is the last thing any of us want to see   
happen. I will handle this, just give me time."

Kira shook her head. "I'm telling you, Shakaar: you weren't there. This   
MacKelroy is trouble."

"And you said the same thing about Ben Sisko to my predecessor, as I   
recall."

"No, this is different," she said. "What if MacKelroy isn't bluffing?"

Shakaar didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

The look he gave her said it all.

*******

Jake woke up, blinking at the light from Bajor's sun that was suddenly   
streaming through his bedroom viewport. He tiptoed to the bathroom,   
careful not to wake Ziyal, and emptied his uncomfortably full bladder.   
"Computer," he called out in a low voice as he shook off the last drops   
of piss, "time."

//It is 1800 hours.//

He cursed under his breath as he washed and sanitized his hands: they'd   
slept nine hours, far longer than Jake had intended. Ziyal would be   
mortified to still be here when Nog showed up. He only hoped Nog decided   
to stop off at Quark's with his fellow crewmen that afternoon instead of   
coming right home.

It wasn't Nog's problem, though; it was Ziyal's. She was always afraid   
that someone would find out they were lovers. She wouldn't spend the   
night with him, and she would only spend no more than an hour with him   
alone during the daytime - when his father was in Ops and Nog was on   
duty. It was futile, given that both Nog and his father knew full well   
that he and Ziyal were sleeping together, but Ziyal didn't know that, or   
rather, didn't want to admit it to herself.

Her inability to be open about their relationship angered Jake at times,   
if only because it felt as if she were ashamed of him. He knew that   
wasn't the real reason, but it still rankled. To him sex was a normal   
part of a relationship, but to her it was a sign that she wasn't the   
'good girl' of her childhood. She simply couldn't overcome the   
conditioning her parents had instilled in her, and although it sometimes   
angered him he tried to be patient.

He put his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, babe, time to wake up."

She didn't stir. It didn't surprise him; Zee been so rundown lately and   
she had been fighting a cold - yet another reason he wanted her to see a   
doctor. He shook her harder and tossed the covers away from her,   
exposing her to the cold room. It was a little mean but she had to get   
up. "C'mon Zee, it's late. We need to hit the shower and get something   
to eat."

Nothing: not even a twitch.

"Zee!" He shook her harder as he began to realize something was very   
wrong. Panic built in his chest. "Zee! Ziyal!" He felt her head - she   
was burning up. "Baby! You have to wake up!" He took her by the   
shoulders and shook her but she remained limp and unresponsive.

"Computer! Medical Emergency!" Jake shouted, now in a full blown panic   
and holding Ziyal tight against his chest. "Please baby, wake up!"

//Infirmary.// Dr. Girani's voice filled the room.

"Dr. Girani, this is Jake. Jake Sisko!"

//Jake, what's wrong?//

Jake struggled to keep his voice steady. "I can't wake up Ziyal.   
Something's wrong with her."

//Okay, Jake. I'm going to transport you both to the Infirmary now.   
Computer, lock onto the biosignatures at the end of this comm line - two   
for emergency medical transport.//

The world shimmered and the air burned around them. When the haze   
cleared they were in the Infirmary, both lying on a biobed with Jake   
still clutching her to his chest.

"Jake, I need you to let us examine her," Girani said, turning her   
tricorder on Ziyal and indicating for him to move away.

Adam Perreira came up behind him and handed him a set of surgical   
scrubs. "Go get dressed, man. We'll take care of her."

Jake looked down at himself in surprise. He hadn't even remembered he   
was naked until Adam pointed it out to him. He slipped on the pants and   
shirt quickly, watching as Girani and Adam took care of Ziyal.

"Jake," Girani said, looking up.

"Is she going to be okay?" Jake asked, moving forward and feeling his   
stomach churn.

"I don't know yet. She appears to be in an unusually deep sleep, but it   
isn't a coma - that's good. I'm going to try administering a mild   
stimulant and see what happens."

"Will it hurt the baby?" Jake asked without thinking.

She and Perreira shared a look before Girani spoke to him again. "It   
shouldn't, no. Are you the baby's father?"

"Yeah - yes," Jake answered, running a shaking hand over his hair.   
"Ziyal - we're going to get married. I mean, in case you need permission   
for anything, I'm her next of kin."

"Technically you aren't, Jake. Not until you are actually married or   
Ziyal signs a consent form naming you as such." Jake began to object but   
Girani cut him off. "It's not that I don't believe you, Jake, but I have   
to go by what is in Ziyal's records. Hopefully, the stimulant will bring   
her around but Kira needs to know. She's on Ziyal's medical release   
forms as the emergency contact."

"That doesn't mean you have to leave or that we won't keep you   
informed," Adam said, stepping up and putting a comforting hand of his   
shoulder. "We won't do anything without telling you first, Jake. I promise."

"Do you - can you-" He bit his lip. "The baby - Ziyal didn't want anyone   
to know yet."

"I'll try to hold off comming Major Kira, but Jake: if I can't bring her   
around I'll have no choice. Do you understand?"

"Yes...just help her."

"I need 5 cc's of metheramine." Girani said to Perreira. He handed her a   
hypospray which she pressed to Ziyal's neck with a hiss. She then looked   
at the monitors above the biobed and frowned. "She has a fever as well   
and I'm not too thrilled over these readings we're getting. Give me 10   
ccs of hydromalycidone and 10 ccs of anacyline."

As soon as the hyposprays were administered, Ziyal began to stir. Jake   
rushed forward, "Zee!"

Adam held him back. "Give her a minute, man."

He watched as Ziyal slowly opened her eyes. Girani grabbed a thin   
blanket from the bottom of the bed and covered her nakedness. "Hey. You   
gave us a scare, young lady."

"Jake..." Ziyal said softly.

"I'm here, babe." Jake walked over to her side and took her hand.

"I don't have any clothes on," Ziyal said, looking around at her   
surroundings and pulling the covers up higher, her face crumpling in   
distress.

"I'm sorry, baby - I didn't think-" Jake began. Adam tapped him on the   
shoulder and nodded as he left to get another set of surgical scrubs for   
Ziyal to put on. "We'll get you something to wear. I just - I got scared   
and I didn't know what to do. I had to call the doctor."

"Is - is it-?"

"The baby is fine," Jake said quickly, looking up at Girani for   
confirmation.

She nodded so Ziyal could see. "You have a healthy baby-" She paused.   
"I'm sorry, did you want to know the baby's sex?"

Jake looked down at Ziyal and smiled. "It's up to you, baby. Do you want   
to know?"

Ziyal didn't answer. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, her   
face flushed with embarrassment. Adam returned and handed Jake the scrubs.

"I think we'll wait for now, doctor," Jake said, awkwardly taking the   
clothes from Adam who wisely disappeared into the office. "Sweetie? Do   
you want me to help you get dressed?"

Ziyal nodded quietly as she sat up in the bed.

"I'll let you get dressed but then we need to do a more detailed   
examination, okay Ziyal?" Girani said.

Ziyal again nodded silently in response; Jake shielded her as best he   
could as he helped her put on the clothes. "Why did you have to call   
them?" she whispered tearfully after Girani left. "I told you-"

"I didn't have a choice, Zee. I tried to literally shake you awake for   
ten minutes. I thought something was wrong - Dr. Girani had to give you   
a hypospray just to wake you up! I'm sorry, believe me. If I had thought   
about it I would have grabbed something for you to wear and dressed you   
first but there wasn't any time." He tried to smile, but his nerves and   
her tears were making that impossible. "I didn't even dress myself,   
baby. I stood there flapping in the wind before Adam reminded me I   
didn't have any pants on, that's how scared I was."

"Now they know about the baby - everyone is going to know now," Ziyal   
said, tears sliding down her cheeks as she lay back down on the bed. Her   
long fall of hair obscured her face as she curled into a ball and   
clutched the blanket to her chest.

"They would have found out eventually, Ziyal," Jake said, becoming a   
little impatient.

"No," Ziyal said in a small voice. "I didn't want..."

"Want what? The baby?" Jake asked, then sat on the edge of the bed and   
ran his hand down her back. "I told you, if you want to terminate I   
understand. It doesn't affect the way I feel about you. We can try again   
when we're ready."

"I do want the baby, Jake," Ziyal's voice hitched a little as she   
continued to cry tears of humiliation, her back still turned to him. "I   
just never wanted to trap you into this. I thought if no one knew I-"

"What Ziyal? Tell me."

"I could just leave the station - go to Bajor. That way we wouldn't be   
an embarrassment to you."

"God damn it," Jake said wearily. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran   
a shaky hand over his eyes, half surprised to feel the slick warmth of   
his own tears. "Zee, I love you so don't take this the wrong way, but   
there are times when you really frustrate me. God, you are going to make   
me old before my time, woman! For the last time, I am not like your dad   
and you are not your mother. I have never thought of you that way. I am   
so proud of you. I am proud of the fact that you are a survivor. I think   
you are beautiful-all of you. I love the Cardassian and the Bajoran in   
you equally. I. Love. You. Do you get it? Are you hearing what I am   
saying to you? How many times do I have to tell you I love you? You are   
not an embarrassment and neither is our baby, so listen to me: you are   
not going anywhere! Your place is with me. If you want to move to Bajor   
\- fine, but I'm coming, too."

"Why? Why would you do that?" Ziyal asked, turning to look at him.

"Jesus, Ziyal! Why do you think? Because I love you and I want to be   
with you: didn't I just get finished telling you that? Besides, husbands   
and wives generally live together, or so I've been told. And we are   
getting married - I'm putting my foot down on this one," Jake said   
firmly. "I have never felt more terrified or helpless than when Dr.   
Girani informed me that because we weren't married I couldn't make any   
decisions regarding your medical care."

She frowned. "She said that?"

"Kira is your emergency contact, not me. I couldn't do anything to help   
you." Jake felt his voice catch and the tears he was trying to suppress   
sting his eyes. He turned his head away, struggling to keep his emotions   
in check. He felt Ziyal's hand on his cheek.

"Jake, marriage is a big deal. Are you sure?" she asked in a low voice.

He looked at her. "Woman...damn it. You're killing me. Yes. I want this,   
Zee. I can't do this without you - I can't go another day with this   
hanging over our heads. If you love me, really love me, don't make me   
keep asking you to marry me. Just say yes. I can't - I can't - this has   
been tearing me up inside." He choked down a sob and cleared his throat.   
"Please." His voice was deep with emotion. "Just put me out of my   
misery. A man can only take so much."

Ziyal sat there quietly for a moment. "Yes."

The minute the word left her mouth Jake took her face in his hands and   
kissed her. He allowed everything he was feeling to flow through that   
sweet contact: all the pain and uncertainty, all his fear and love, and   
in return she answered him with her own soft touch. When they broke   
apart Jake wiped at the corners of his eyes roughly and cleared his   
throat. "Okay. After we leave here we're going to the station temple and   
speak with the vedek. I wanted to wait until my dad came back, but we   
can do it again later. I want us married as soon as possible - today, if   
we can do it."

"I think maybe we should wait until I feel a little better," Ziyal   
suggested. "Just another day or two. I still feel a little funny from   
the hypo Dr. Girani gave me."

"God. When we are old and gray I swear I'll pay you back by being a   
crotchety old bastard and I will do everything I can to make your life   
miserable. Do you hear me, woman? Miserable!" He waited until he saw her   
smile a little. "Fine," Jake said softly. "Just don't change your mind,   
okay?"

"I won't. I promise."

Jake pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on top of her head.   
"I'm going to take out the garbage in my underwear and piss off the   
neighbors. I'm going to fart in public and blame you. Loudly." Her   
shoulders began to shake and he smiled. "Don't laugh-I'm serious. You   
think I'm kidding but I'm telling you right now that I will have my   
revenge. I'm going to feed our grandchildren tons of candy, then leave   
you to baby-sit while Nog and I go fishing. And from now on, I hog the   
covers, do you hear me? I earned it. And I'm going to rub ice all over   
my ass and scoot up against you every night, see how you like it for a   
change."

"I don't mean to interrupt you two, but I need to run some tests,"   
Girani said as she came back into the room. "Do you want me to comm   
Major Kira, Ziyal?"

"Um, yes," Ziyal said, smiling up at Jake. "That way we can tell her   
about the wedding. Is it all right with you if I ask her to be my maid   
of honor?"

"Absolutely," Jake said, kissing her on the forehead and saying a quiet   
prayer of thanks.

*****

Dan hurried out of the turbolift and headed toward the Infirmary. When   
he got there he wasn't the least bit surprised to see Girani waiting   
there for him outside of the Infirmary. He was late: very late. His   
shift was 1800 to 0500 and he was forty-five minutes late. He was about   
to launch into his apology when he caught the look on her face.

"I need a consult."

He looked at her in surprise. "Sure. What's up?"

"It's Ziyal." Girani's expression was troubled. "I need you to go over   
her labs with me if you could."

Dan took the PADD she handed him. "Well, she's definitely pregnant."

"I realize that, Okuna. Just keep reading."

Dan shrugged and scrolled down the report. When he got about halfway   
down he stopped. "What the hell is this? Some kind of metabolic   
acidosis? What's causing it?"

"I don't know."

"Where's Ziyal?" Okuna asked.

"She's asleep. I told them we couldn't discharge her until we were sure   
she was stable. Perreira is sitting with her and Jake monitoring the   
readings." She said with a sigh. "I don't like this. I'm thinking it may   
have to do with the pregnancy itself. You're the genetics expert: can   
you look this over and see what the options are? I don't want to   
recommend a termination until all the facts are in."

"I'll work on it tonight. Have you commed Bashir yet? Asked him what he   
thinks?"

"She doesn't want me to contact him. Ziyal was adamant about it. I think   
it has more to do with the possibility that Garak might find out about   
the pregnancy before she's ready to tell him than it is about any issues   
she might have concerning Dr. Bashir. Still, it would probably be for   
the best if we didn't consult with him on this until absolutely necessary."

"Why not?"

"Well, with the whole Founder blowup and then the Zimmerman thing -   
let's face it, he was on the edge for a while there. If I was a pregnant   
woman I'd be reluctant to put my baby's life in Bashir's hands right now   
myself."

"He's a good doctor," Okuna objected.

"I know that," she said. "He's one of the best, but he's been a bit off   
his game since all this crap started. For now, let's keep this between   
us. If we can't figure something out we'll comm him. He's supposed to be   
on suspension anyway. I have a feeling this MacKelroy won't be too open   
to having him pop up for a consult."

"That guy is a true blue asshole," Okuna agreed, looking over the PADD   
again. "I'll see what I can do. I'll run a few more tests on them both -   
Jake is the father, right?"

"That's what they said."

Okuna nodded. "You're right; it may have something to do with the   
genetics. I'll call you if anything happens or if I find something."

"Do that," Girani said with a nod as she turned wearily toward the   
turbolifts.

"Night," Okuna said absently.

"Oh, and Okuna?"

He turned to look at her.

"Show up forty-five minutes late for your shift again and I'll   
surgically graft your balls to your forehead."

He smiled at her. "You have a nice night as well, doctor."


	4. The Simple Things In Life

CHAPTER FOUR: The Simple Things In Life

 

Julian woke up with a snort. Something was-

"Good morning!" Kela said, giggling at him.

Julian wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and sat up, clearing   
his throat. "Good morning."

Kela giggled again. "Your hair is sticking up all funny."

"Hmm." Julian answered in a noncommittal grunt and ran a hand through   
his hair. "What time is it?"

"It's day time," Kela said. "We got to get up and get dressed. Breakfast   
will be starting soon and today they're serving honey cakes! We got to   
get there before they run out and all that's left is eggs and salted   
fish - gross!"

"Yes, quite," Julian said, getting out of bed. He headed toward the   
bathroom then stopped. "Crap. Clothes - you don't have any clothes to   
wear." He turned to Kela, who had crawled up on his bed to play with her   
stuffed wompat doll among the ruin of covers. He looked at her tangle of   
hair and rumpled blue nightgown critically. "I don't suppose breakfast   
around here is clothing optional?"

"I don't know. What's 'clothing op-shun-all' mean?"

"It means, well..." Next time keep the sarcasm to a minimum around the   
four-year old, Bashir. "In other words, is it okay if you go to   
breakfast in your pajamas?"

"Oh. Nope."

"Fantastic." Julian said, watching her bounce her doll on her knee. "And   
you have nothing to wear. Again."

"But I do got clothes! Elim said he was coming over before breakfast   
with some."

"Well, that's one bit of good news then." He went over to his suitcases   
and rummaged around until he found a sweater, jeans, and underwear. "You   
stay here and wait for Garak until I come out of the bathroom."

"Okay. Why do you call Elim, Garak?"

Julian stopped. "Because that's his name."

"No it isn't," Kela argued. "It's Elim."

"But it's also Garak."

"No, that's his *other* name. His real name is Elim," she said with a   
superior air.

"But-" Julian stopped himself. What sense did it make to argue about   
this with a four-year-old while standing in his pajamas? "Just - wait   
for 'Elim' then, okay?"

"Okay," she said, then added, "You're very messy."

"Pardon me?" He said turning toward her again.

"Your clothes are all over the floor and stuff. And you left all those   
towels on the floor last night, too. I saw them when I went pee. They   
was all wet and the water squished out when I stepped on 'em. Brother   
Lum says that's bad. It makes the floors all rotten and stuff and the   
towels get stinky."

Julian felt a headache building at his temples. "I'll clean it up later."

"Brother Lum always makes me pick up my messes before I can go anywhere.   
He says that the Prophets can see when you are being ir-ir-re...when   
you're being bad."

"Fine, I'll go pick them up now." Julian said, then in a lower voice   
muttered "I wouldn't want the Prophets thinking I was 'irresponsible',   
would I?"

"Nope!" Kela agreed brightly.

God save us from little ears that can hear like a bat, Julian thought   
reaching for the door.

"Kela!" Garak's voice sounded from the living room.

"Oh good, Ga--*Elim's* here!" Julian said in an overly bright and   
cheerful voice. "Let's go say hi to 'Elim', shall we?"

As Kela rushed out the door ahead of him, Julian looked at his clothes   
that were scattered around the room and muttered under his breath, "And   
they wouldn't be all over the damned floor if...bugger it."

He walked out to see Garak with some of Kela's clothes in his hand   
leading her over to the couch. "I'll just be in the bathroom."

Garak nodded and began getting Kela dressed. He ducked into the   
bathroom, grateful for an excuse not to be pulled into another   
discussion with the Cardassian.

"Dr. Julian's room is real messy!" he heard Kela say before he shut the   
door. "He just throws his clothes EVERYWHERE!"

Julian looked at his reflection in the mirror ruefully. His hair was   
sticking up on end, one of the lapels of his pajama top was pointing   
straight up, and there was a crusty trail of drool sediment leading from   
the corner of his mouth. "Oh you sexy beast, you," Julian said to his   
reflection as he dropped his clothes on the lid of the closed hamper and   
reached for his toothbrush. "Bet you the Founder never looked this good   
first thing in the morning."

 

******

Breakfast was delicious; even the kippered fish cakes were flavorful,   
although Kela and Lewin both looked at him like he was insane when he   
went back for seconds.

Garak sat with the other monks during first meal. Julian wondered if   
that was his habit or if he were avoiding him. Kela and Lewin didn't   
seem overly upset by his absence from the table so Julian assumed it was   
normal. When breakfast ended and the chimes that directed the children   
to report to the school sounded, Julian headed toward the infirmary to   
get some work done. Today he was determined to focus on something   
besides Elim Garak and the ruination of his career.

"Dr. Bashir!"

He turned to see the monk he'd met the day before, Brother Reven,   
hurrying toward him.

"Is there something you need, Brother Reven?"

"I was wondering if later you could do me a favor and take a look at   
Brother Danna?" Reven said when he caught up to him. "There's been a   
cold making its way through the monastery for about a month now," he   
said with a smile. "Germs and sniffles are the biggest hazards when   
working with kids. Danna has had the hardest time shaking it off,   
though. In fact, I've noticed all of our hybrid children have been   
miserable with it. I think the temperature changes and the fact that   
it's been a soggy spring are the biggest contributing factors."

Julian nodded. "Cardassians, even half-Cardassians, tend to prefer   
warmer weather than this."

"Tell me about it," Reven said with a chuckle. "Danna keeps our bedroom   
swelteringly hot and still piles on a dozen blankets!"

"You and Brother Danna are...together?" Julian asked in surprise.

"Yes." Reven blinked at him. "I'm sorry, doctor, it keeps slipping my   
mind that you - well."

"The Founder...I understand."

"I apologize," Reven said, "but yes. Danna and I took our vows of holy   
bondage three years ago next month."

"I knew the evangelical clergy could marry but I didn't think the monks   
of your faith did."

"We don't, at least not in the secular sense. It isn't a civil bond per   
say, but a spiritual one."

"So you don't..." Julian struggled to find the appropriate way to phrase   
his question.

"Have sex?" Reven chuckled. "We're not celibate if that's what you're   
asking."

"I didn't mean to offend you or anything." Julian flushed with   
embarrassment.

He waved him off. "Nonsense. You'd be surprised at how often we get   
asked that question. Especially by non-Bajorans."

"In that case, could I ask a few more questions?"

"Go right ahead. That's part of the job."

"What's the difference between a civil union and a spiritual bond?"   
Julian asked.

"Ah, now that is a good question. You see, during the Occupation, the   
church and its clergy were persecuted and religion was banned - which   
you already know. This meant that religious ceremonies such as weddings   
could not be performed by clergy and one could only legally marry by   
going through the civil laws and regulations as set by the Cardassian   
overlords. Most people didn't marry because of their fear of coming   
under Cardassian scrutiny. They merely made a mutual decision to live   
together and agreed they were married without any formal ceremony or   
civil agreement."

"Broomstick weddings." At Reven's curious look Julian explained. "It's a   
term I learned while I was studying early American Literature while at   
University. Several hundred years ago when slavery existed on Earth,   
people who could not legally marry would jump over a broomstick together   
as a symbol of their bond."

"Broomstick wedding...interesting," Reven said, mulling the idea over.   
"Our people conducted similar symbolic ceremonies. They didn't exchange   
vows so much as they merely announced or made clear by some other means   
their intent to live as a couple. No jumping over cleaning implements,   
however." He chuckled. "Those that were able to legally marry obtained   
permission from the local Cardassian field office in their province and   
then their union was duly recorded and processed through the   
Occupational Government. When the Occupation ended, in order to preserve   
those unions, the Provisional Government decided to enact a law   
recognizing civil unions. They also required new unions to be documented   
by the local government just as it was done during the Occupation.   
That's why most evangelical ministers are licensed by the Provisional   
Government to perform civil ceremonies."

"Like they do at the temple on DS9."

"Correct," he said. "It's so that people who aren't on Bajor but who   
want both a civil and spiritual union don't have to commute back.   
However, as clergy, we may only participate in a spiritual bond as   
recognized by the Bajora Communion because to us the only true bond is   
one made in the sight of the Prophets. Technically the Provisional   
government doesn't recognize it as a marriage, per se, but it all adds   
up to the same thing."

"That...makes sense." Julian said thoughtfully. "Seems a little silly to   
split hairs like that."

Reven shrugged. "The Bajora Communion and the Provisional Government are   
separate entities and at times we seem to contradict one another, but we   
always end up in the same place."

"So that means that monks can date?"

Reven smiled. "I'm afraid I'm spoken for but if you're asking if Brother   
Elim is free to engage in a personal relationship during his time of   
penitence, the answer is yes."

Julian cleared his throat nervously. "I wasn't - I didn't mean Garak -   
it was just a general, you know...um. So you said Danna was sick?"

Reven's eyes danced in amusement. "I don't think it's a matter of life   
and death, but I have noticed he's been running a fever on and off. Like   
I said, usually the bed is heaped with blankets and he's got the fire   
blazing before I step two feet in the door, but last night he was so hot   
he woke up in a sweat."

"What have you been treating him with?"

"Some herbs and teas. Normally they work in these cases but it's not   
doing the trick this time. I'm a vet and I've been known to cross   
species lines from time to time, but this goes a little beyond the   
abilities of a veterinarian."

"Bring him over to the infirmary this afternoon and I'll have a look.   
I'm expecting a shipment of supplies this morning so we should be able   
to knock what ever this is right out. Also, let me know if there are any   
other children or monks feeling ill. There's no need for whatever this   
is to keep circling the orphanage."

"Thank you, doctor. I'll leave you to your work then. We'll come by   
after midday prayers," Reven said, shaking his hand in gratitude before   
leaving.

Julian headed over to the Infirmary to finish setting up his lab with a   
smile on his face. Why he was feeling better he didn't really know. It   
might have been the prospect of actually being of some use while he was   
here even if all he was doing was treating a spring cold, or it may have   
been Reven's friendly demeanor. It might have been either of those   
things - but the one thing from his conversation with the monk that   
stuck in his mind was the fact that Garak was still available should he   
decide to pursue a relationship with him.

Which he had no intention of doing, of course.

Still, Julian thought, it was nice to know the option was there, just in   
case.

******

It was twenty minutes to midday meal and Julian was beginning to get   
frustrated. None of the supplies he had requested had arrived yet and he   
had patients scheduled to come in that afternoon. He had brought a   
medical replicator with him, but there were some things the machine   
couldn't easily replicate. Several types of anti-virals, for instance,   
and from the way Reven explained Danna's symptoms, he was willing to bet   
that's what he'd need to treat him. He sat in front of the view screen   
of his comm unit and waited for it to connect.

//Infirmary.//

"Hello, Adam. Is Dr. Girani available?"

//She's with a patient. Can I help you, doc?//

Julian shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Perreira, how many times   
have I asked you not to call me 'doc'?"

//A whole lot, doc, but I promise to remember not to do it any more in   
the future.//

Julian gave him a withering glare. "Has anyone ever told you that you   
have the emotional maturity of a four-year-old, Perreira?"

//Every woman I've ever dated. What can I do for you?//

Julian sighed and decided to let it go. Let Girani deal with him for a   
while. One of the perks of his 'reassignment' was not having to deal   
with Adam Perreira's sense of humor on a daily basis. "I sent up a   
requisition order last night and I should have received my supplies by   
now. What's the hold up?"

Adam frowned. //I packed those supplies up personally and sent them out   
to be transported this morning. You never got them?//

"No."

//Give me a minute to see what's going on and I'll comm you right back.//

"I'm leaving in twenty minutes for lunch and afterwards I've got some   
patients coming in for an anti-viral booster. If I'm not here just have   
someone go ahead and transport the supplies down."

//Sure thing.//

Julian turned off the monitor and got back to work. If the supplies   
weren't here when he returned from lunch he'd just take the runabout up   
and get them himself. "I've been gone just one day and the whole place   
has gone straight to hell."

 

*****

Adam clicked off the comm unit and frowned. Where the hell had Bashir's   
supplies gone? He hit his comm badge, "Perreira to Yesmin."

//Yesmin.//

"Hey Phil, what happened to that package I had you guys load up for Dr.   
Bashir?"

//What do you mean? I put it on the transport headed for Bajor.//

"It never got there."

//You sure?//

"Phil, man, Doc Bashir just commed me personally and said it didn't   
arrive, so yeah, I'm sure."

//Let me check the manifest.// There was a pause then a muffled expletive.

"What?" Adam asked.

//Your stuff's still on loading pylon six,// Yesmin said in an aggrieved   
tone.

"What's the hold up?"

//MacKelroy put a moratorium on any shipments of Starfleet supplies   
heading to Bajor unless they are personally authorized by him.//

"Are you-" Perreira dropped his voice down to a more normal tone. "Are   
you shitting me? Sisko himself authorized that shipment before he left."

//I had it loaded up and ready to go. According to this my guy got a   
comm from MacKelroy saying that all relief shipments heading to Bajor   
had to be authorized by him - especially anything with Bashir's name on   
it - including the ones Sisko had already authorized.//

"That's a load of bullshit!"

//Take it up with the man, Perreira. I just follow orders.//

"I hear you. Perreira out." Adam walked over to the office and tapped on   
the door. "Dr. Girani?"

Girani was sitting at the desk tapping on a PADD. She frowned. "Has   
Ziyal's condition changed?"

"No."

"Then what is it, Perreira? I'm busy."

"We have a problem."

Girani gave him a long suffering look. "I really don't want to hear   
this, Perreira."

Adam ignored her and entered the room, shutting the door behind him.   
"MacKelroy put the kibosh on all 'relief' supplies going to Bajor,   
especially ones sent to Dr. Bashir without his express authorization."

"Son of a-" Girani's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Sisko authorized   
that shipment."

"He doesn't seem to care," Perreira replied. "When Bashir commed me on   
this he said he's got a viral outbreak down there and needs those meds.   
What are we going to do?"

"Go get the shipment and bring it back here. I'm going to call in a few   
favors."

He shot her a dubious look. "I doubt MacKelroy is the type of guy who   
reacts well to sweet talk, doc."

"Since when have I ever 'sweet talked' anyone, Perreira?"

He thought about that for a second. "Um, never?"

Girani grinned, scary and slow. "Right."

Adam frowned. "If you don't go through MacKelroy, how are you going to   
get the medicine down to Bajor? He's not going to let you take a   
runabout down."

"Just go get the packages, Perreira."

 

******

Vedek Halan made his way down to docking pylon six dragging a hover cart   
loaded down with various large boxes. "Excuse me, my son. Could you give   
me a hand with this?"

Phil Yesmin looked at the boxes with narrowed eyes, then reached over to   
help the elderly vedek lower the hover cart. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor and have this shipped down   
to Bajor for me?"

"Hmmm." Yesmin looked at the boxes again. "Mind if I ask what it is   
you're shipping, Vedek?"

"Clothes, various books, toys - just a few things to make the lives of   
the dear children of the Forgotten Children's Ministry a bit easier,"   
Halan said innocently.

Yesmin scratched his chin. "You know, father - er, vedek. Sorry."

"Not at all, my son," Halan said with a beatific grin.

"There was a bunch of packages down here a little while ago that looked   
just like these - same hover cart in fact."

"Don't all boxes look alike?"

"I suppose," Yesmin said. "The new CO says we have to examine any   
shipments headed out to Bajor now. Mind if I open a box, sir?"

"Be my guest," Halan invited. When Yesin reached for a box off the top,   
Halan stopped him. "Not that one." He pointed to another box. "Try this   
one instead."

"Riiiight..." Yesmin opened the box and pulled out a teddy bear. He then   
gave the elderly cleric an assessing look. "Seems perfectly legitimate   
to me. I'll ship it out now."

"Thank you my son. You have been so kind." Halan said, "Are you married?"

"Um, no." Yesmin said, momentarily taken off guard.

"Oh good! I should introduce you to my granddaughter. She's a pretty   
girl. A little chatty, but a real sweetheart. Do you like girls?"

"Yes, of course! I mean..." Yesmin stuttered.

"I'll have her come by-better yet, do you have dinner plans?"

"I, uh..."

"Do you like Bajoran food?" He asked.

"Yes, but--"

"Then you have to take her to Mapaya's; it's her favorite restaurant.   
She eats there all the time and she'll be thrilled you thought of it.   
I'll have her stop by and you can work out the details amongst   
yourselves." The vedek promised, walking away with a wave. "You have a   
good day, young man."

"Yes...sir. Oh, and Vedek?"

"Yes?" he said, turning back.

"If you should run into Ensign Perreira, could you tell him he owes me   
one?" Yesmin thought about that for a moment, "On second thought, I'll   
tell him myself. I have a feeling that this is a message I should   
deliver *personally*."

*****

When Julian got back to the children's infirmary after lunch, a pile of   
boxes was waiting for him in the center of the room. "It's about time!"   
he said, tearing into the first box. "What the hell?"

He looked in the box then slowly reached inside to pull out a...teddy bear.

"Perreira." He shook his head. "I swear that man has the weirdest sense   
of humor."

Julian put the box of toys on the floor and opened the next box which   
contained, thankfully, the medicine he'd ordered. He was still putting   
everything away when Danna and Reven arrived.

After settling Danna onto the exam table, he took out his tricorder and   
began the scan. Julian looked at the readings he was receiving with a   
frown. "How long did you say you've been exhibiting these symptoms,   
Brother Danna?"

The half-Cardassian monk shrugged, "I don't know...on and off for about   
a month or so."

"More on than off," Reven interjected.

Danna shot his companion a look. "It's nothing, just a cold or an   
allergy. I always get a bit congested when the aguaba trees begin to   
bloom. The teas Reven prepares usually knock it right out."

"This isn't an allergy." Julian said, uploading the information into the   
medi-scanner and looking at the results.

"A virus?" Reven asked.

"I think so, but..." Julian frowned then retrieved an aspirator and a   
slide from the drawer in his desk. "Do you mind if I get a blood sample?   
There's something I need to check."

"Not at all," Danna said, rolling up his sleeve.

Julian extracted a small sample of blood then transferred the slide to   
the electron microscope he'd brought.

He quickly isolated the virus in Reven's blood and examined the matrix   
of the virion itself. It was beautiful - clean lines and deep crimson in   
color; crystalline perfection. He'd never seen anything like it. "You   
said this has been making the rounds throughout the orphanage?"

"Starting to," Reven said. "Is it bad?"

"I don't think so, not if the symptoms are as mild as you say," Julian   
said, turning back to them. "It's just not a virus strain I'm familiar   
with. It's nothing to be concerned about, new viruses pop up all the   
time. We'll try a round of standard anti-virals and if that doesn't work   
we'll worry about it then, all right?" He loaded a hypospray and pressed   
it to Danna's neck. "In the meantime if anyone else has exhibited   
symptoms I want them to report here. Also, if you have any problems I   
want you to see me - no trying to get rid of it with some tea. I like a   
good cup as well as the next person but I think this bug may warrant a   
bit more aggressive measures on our part."

"Thank you, doctor." Danna said. rubbing his neck. He smiled at Reven.   
"You know, I really like having a full-time doctor here at the monastery."

"So do I," Reven agreed. "I'm busy enough caring for four-legged   
creatures without having to keep up with two-legged ones as well."

"Just relax, get plenty of rest and fluids and I want you back here   
tomorrow so I can see if the anti-virals are working," Julian said. "You   
should be fine."

"I'll talk to Lum and the others about sending any children who have had   
colds this past month over to you, doctor," Danna promised.

"There are hard candies in the cupboard," Reven said as he helped Danna   
off the table and headed for the door with him. "Do us all a favor and   
when handing them out to the children, use them sparingly. There are   
only twelve of us and fifty of them. Too much sugar and we'll have a   
riot on our hands."

"I promise," Julian said, watching them leave. He turned back to the   
microscope and looked at the virus again.

Julian was not a connoisseur of art. He enjoyed the odd museum and he   
could appreciate a fine painting as well as the next person, but he'd   
never really been attracted to art. Artists, yes, but not the things   
they created. On the walls of his quarters hung the standard paintings   
that hung on every wall of every Starfleet vessel and installation. They   
came with the room. Most of the people he knew took them down five   
minutes after being assigned quarters and replaced them with a favorite   
print or pictures from home. Not Julian. A two-dimensional snapshot or   
artist's rendering of some random moment in time bored him. But this   
virion: this was art he could appreciate.

It breathed, it lived, it was a tiny universe which flowed and grew   
within the body of its host. It was gleaming beauty and perfect   
symmetry; it sparkled and swept through the bloodstream like a   
malevolent ruby. His relationship with these marvelous little monsters   
was one of both admiration and loathing. As a doctor and an infectious   
disease expert his job was to kill this beautiful living fractal, but if   
he were an art lover this is what he would hang on his wall.

 

It wasn't like any other virus he'd seen. It certainly didn't look like   
any of the common Bajoran viruses he was used to. It was unnaturally   
symmetrical for one thing: highly uncommon for most viruses no matter   
what their origin. He adjusted the microscope to examine the virion at a   
higher magnification: what he saw almost took his breath away. Its   
smooth curves and flowing lines made him think more of an ancient   
Hebetian cathedral, or perhaps an Andorian ice hotel, than a work of   
nature. Or was that it? He zoomed out again. It was perfect: too   
perfect, too ordered to be a virus in the wild, but what would be the   
point of recreating the common cold?

Dozens of theories popped into his head but none of them seemed   
plausible. Reven said the Bajoran children had gotten over this bug   
fairly quickly; it was the hybrids who were experiencing its lingering   
effects, but they were so mild...

He selected a strand of RNA and magnified one section, then re-adjusted   
the scanner to focus on one anomalous nucleic acid pair. Strange: uracil   
was normally found paired with adenine, not xanthine, and to make   
matters worse the molecule he'd found wasn't even typical Bajoran xanthine.  
He leaned back in his chair and scratched his head in confusion. Maybe   
it was a holdover from the Occupation? A failed Bajoran attempt at   
biowarfare that resulted in nothing more than night sweats and sniffles?

No, this kind of technology was far more advanced than anything the   
Bajorans ever could have attempted with their limited resources,   
especially during the Occupation. The Cardassians' one saving grace was   
their disdain for biochemical warfare. They considered it hard to   
control and inexact. That meant this probably wasn't Cardassian either.   
Breen? No. Romulan? Vulcan? Perhaps something closer to home like a   
Ferengi virus?

That could be the answer, Julian thought. The Bajorans were so resistant   
to these types of viruses that it might have mutated as a survival   
technique after hopping off some alien traveler, mutating until it found   
its way to the orphanage. That was possible, plausible even.

There was evidence that it attacked the sinuses first, and the Ferengi   
were most susceptible to those types of infections. The Bajoran   
respiratory system, on the other hand, was highly resistant to infection   
and one of their strongest natural defenses. The distinct ridges upon   
the Bajoran's noses were the outward appearance of a complex set of   
filters located inside of their sinuses.

Hybrids were not as fortunate with their less well-defined respiratory   
filter systems. Perhaps, he mused, that was why the effects of the virus   
were so much more pronounced in those with Cardassian ancestry. He'd   
have to get samples from all the full-blooded Bajoran children who had   
complained of flu or cold symptoms in the past two months and compare   
them to the hybrid children with similar symptoms.

He stared into the mysterious red world of his newest obsession, willing   
it to give up its secrets, but it remained silent. When Kela came to   
fetch him for dinner he'd looked up at the chrono only to realize he'd   
been working on it for nearly five hours.

It's just a virus, he told himself as he reluctantly shut off the   
scanner to follow the little girl to the dining hall. It's not like you   
don't have more important things to do.

 

*******

 

Okuna looked down into the microscope again and tried to unravel what he   
was seeing. Infectious diseases were not his specialty and this was   
definitely a virion he was looking at. It looked like it had been   
genetically manipulated - something he was familiar with - but not in a   
way he'd ever seen before. Ziyal said she had been experiencing   
cold-like symptoms for at least three months but she hadn't paid much   
attention to them, since they'd come and gone a few times. Runny noses   
and the occasional chill were the norm for a person of Cardassian blood   
living on DS9.

She was used to the warmer weather of the slave colony where she grew   
up; to her, the station was always kept a bit on the cold side. Bajor   
was a temperate planet and the Starfleet uniforms were rather warm so   
the thermostats were set on the low end of comfortable for them. For   
Cardassians and other species used to warmer climates, it could be quite   
nippy.

It wasn't until she became pregnant that the symptoms suddenly   
increased. It was as though the rush of hormones she was experiencing   
was feeding the virion and causing it to mutate - as if they were   
activating some process within the virus.

Whatever this was, it was killing her. Her organs were in the early   
stages of shutting down. She was now a diabetic. Her pancreas and liver   
had both begun to fail and she was insulin-resistant. They had   
administered the diabetes vaccine but it had only slowed the process   
down slightly. Her endocrine system was also now completely compromised   
by the virus, and there was evidence that she was having trouble   
converting amino acids. They had placed her on a low-protein diet but it   
was still too early to see if it would have any effect. Metabolic   
acidosis was inevitable if they couldn't figure something out and soon.

He glanced over to where Ziyal was sitting up on the biobed. Jake had   
his arm around her shoulders and they were talking to Vedek Halan. They   
looked so happy.

What the fuck were they going to do?

Girani had come in early this morning, supposedly to check on Ziyal. At   
least that is what she *said*. He wasn't stupid though. She was exactly   
forty-five minutes early-her way of showing him that she hadn't   
forgotten or forgiven his tardiness the day before. This one time he was   
thankful for Girani's bad attitude and rigid nature.

He walked into the office, letting the door close behind him.

She looked up. "What?"

His face was grim. "We have to bring in Bashir."

Girani sighed. "You know as well as I do, Okuna, what's going to happen   
the minute Dr. Bashir sets foot on the station."

"Yeah, MacKelroy is going to shit a brick and go into his speech about   
how he's supposed to be on suspension," Okuna said. "But that guy is   
also up his own ass and on a total power trip."

"And when Sisko gets back-"

"Dr. Girani, Ziyal will die unless we get this bug under control and   
fast. Even if she lasts long enough for Captain Sisko to come back and   
send MacKelroy packing, the damage will be done. This thing, whatever   
the hell it is, is progressing fast and, although I can't prove it, I   
think the hormones from the pregnancy are causing the rate of metabolic   
deterioration to advance exponentially." Okuna's expression was one of   
extreme agitation and he began to pace back and forth in a ragged   
cadence. "Are you willing to terminate this pregnancy now - and ignore   
the fact that we could save two lives - just because some asshat with a   
commission is throwing his weight around? I mean, my God: even if we go   
to this guy and say we have a patient who could die if we don't get some   
fucking help he'll probably just say she's a Bajoran national and it's   
not our concern!"

Girani's mouth tightened. "Save it; I'm sold, Okuna. I know and you know   
that the closest doctor who could even come close to having Dr. Bashir's   
level of experience with infectious diseases is on the Venture and she's   
under comm silence while they're out running drills. It will take a week   
for someone else to get here and Bashir is less than an hour away-I know   
this. I also know it's probably an exercise in futility."

"So...do you want to call him or should I?"

"Prophets, but you're a pain in my ass, Okuna. No wonder your girlfriend   
dumped you."

Okuna's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You heard about that?"

"Never tell Perreira something that you want to keep on the down low,"   
Girani said with a superior air. "Besides, everyone knows she's been   
sleeping with the first officer on the Venture for the last month."

"Seriously?" Okuna said faintly.

Girani turned on the comm monitor and dialed the monastery. "If you   
didn't know that, then you really are an idiot." she said, her voice   
devoid of sympathy. "I don't mean to sound cold, but she's a *dabo girl*   
and you've been on Bajor chasing after Garak for the last three months.   
What did you expect her to do? Knit you some mittens and keep warm with   
a good book?" She rolled her eyes and snorted.

"You know, Girani, of all your wonderful qualities, the ones I admire   
most are your tact and generosity of spirit," Okuna said, his voice   
heavily laden with sarcasm.

"I just believe in cutting through the crap and getting to the point,   
Okuna."

//Bashir// Julian's image appeared on the view screen.

"We have a problem."

******

"Damn." Julian looked at the image of the virion Girani sent him and   
pulled up the one he'd isolated in Danna's blood the day before.

//You've seen this virus before, doctor?// Okuna asked.

"I've seen it," Julian confirmed grimly. "But what I've seen is   
obviously an earlier stage of the infection. You said Ziyal has   
experienced symptoms on and off for a few months?"

//Correct. We asked her why she didn't seek medical attention earlier   
and she said she didn't think it was serious enough to mention,// Girani   
answered.

"Not to sound like a proponent of nature over nurture, but I'm beginning   
to believe it's hardwired into Cardassian DNA to avoid seeking medical   
treatment until the last bloody minute." Julian scowled, "If I'm right,   
we may have a full-scale outbreak down here. Jake said Ziyal had been   
down here a lot in the last few months. Chances are she's Patient Zero   
but I need to come up there to confirm it."

//Um, slight problem with that.// Okuna broke in. //The 'temporary' CO   
is on a power trip and he's especially fixated on you and distancing   
this installation from all things Bajoran.//

Julian frowned. "I'm sorry?"

//The reason your shipment was delayed was because MacKelroy put a   
moratorium on all 'relief supplies' going to Bajor and especially   
anything with your name on it,// Girani explained. //I had to ask Vedek   
Halan to have it sent under his name just to get it on a transport.//

"That would explain the toys..." Julian said faintly. "Why is he so   
fixated with me? I've never met the man."

//He's Ross's boy and Ross must not be happy with Sisko shuffling you   
around is all we can figure. MacKelroy is a by the book guy and from   
what I gather-//

"My book is cooked, I get it." Julian ran his hand through his short,   
curly hair in agitation. "Well, he'll just have to deal with it. Ziyal   
is my patient and I'm still a doctor. If I have to come up as a civilian   
I will. I have to bring in Garak's reports anyway-"

"Dr. Julian!" Lewin came rushing in with Kela and several other children   
trailing behind him.

"What's wrong?" Julian asked.

"Your ship just took off by itself!"

Julian turned back to the monitor and said, "I'll comm you right back,"   
before shutting it off and rushing outside. By the time he got there the   
small runabout he'd had parked outside the gates of the monastery was   
long gone. "Shi-shoot!" He glanced at the kids standing around him   
apologetically then slapped the comm badge that was pinned to his   
sweater, "Bashir to the Yalobusha."

Nothing.

"Bashir to the pilot of the Yalobusha: respond!"

Again, no answer.

"It's on autopilot - fuck!"

A little girl standing near him gasped and pointed. "Dr. Julian said a   
real bad word!"

He growled something unintelligible then stomped back to the Infirmary.   
He was so infuriated that he failed to notice when he left that Lewin   
had broken off from the crowd of children and was running toward Garak's   
cabin.

He reached for the monitor; within seconds he was looking into the face   
of his new nemesis, Commander MacKelroy.

//Dr. Bashir, I presume.//

"What gave it away?" Julian asked in a clipped tone.

//Lots of things,// MacKelroy said in a bored tone as he typed on a PADD   
distractedly. //The British accent, the fact that you're in civvies and   
calling a direct line to my office, and lastly that I gave the order for   
the runabout you misappropriated to be recalled not more than five   
minutes ago and here you are.//

"Misappropriated?!?" he repeated in outrage. "I was *assigned* that   
transport by Captain Sisko, my superior officer and the man whose chair   
you are temporarily occupying! If I don't have that transport how in the   
hell am I supposed to do my job?!?"

//You are on suspension, doctor, pending a hearing to remove you from   
service with Starfleet. You no longer have a job. As such, you don't   
have any rights to any Starfleet assets, much less a valuable piece of   
equipment like the runabout.//

"I may be on personal leave from my duties in the station's infirmary,   
*Commander*, but I have been assigned as Garak's Starfleet liaison under   
the direction of Admiral Nechayev - a person whom I know for a fact   
outranks both you and Admiral Ross!" Julian responded angrily.

//Garak is a Bajoran asset. First Minister Shakaar was adamant about   
that as I recall. As I see it, there is no need for a Starfleet liaison   
to be assigned to him. If the Bajorans want to keep him so badly then   
they can waste their own manpower and resources mollycoddling him, not   
ours. We have our own code-breakers in Intelligence. If you think I've   
overstepped my authority with that decision, then take it up with   
Admiral Nechayev, doctor.// MacKelroy said in a disinterested tone.   
//She's at the Peace Summit. As soon as it breaks, in ten days or so,   
she can assign you a Galaxy-class starship for all I care. Until then   
the runabout is my asset and I'm reclaiming it.//

"I have a patient lying in a biobed on the station who needs me!" he roared.

MacKelroy tilted his head at him curiously. //Doctor, you don't have   
anything on this station anymore, much less a patient. Or didn't Captain   
Sisko explain to you what 'six months of suspension' means?//

Julian gritted his teeth. "What the hell is your problem, MacKelroy?"

//You want to know what my problem is, doctor?// MacKelroy asked coolly.   
//I'll tell you what my problem is. I find it disturbing to see that   
Starfleet officers have strayed so far from regulations that they have   
allowed a person like you, who is a security risk and obviously has been   
for a very long time, to put the entire Alpha Quadrant in jeopardy:   
that's my problem.// He shook his head in disgust. //How someone like   
you even got into the 'fleet is beyond me.//

"And what kind of person am I, MacKelroy?" he challenged. "I'm curious,   
especially since you know me so well."

MacKelroy's voice lowered. //I'll tell you what you are, Bashir. You are   
a disgrace to the uniform, that's what you are.//

"I'm afraid I'm not as familiar with your service record, Commander, as   
you are with mine. Exactly how many commendations and medals have you   
racked up flying a desk, MacKelroy?" he shot back, his temper escalating   
to a rolling boil. "I'm guessing the answer is none! You're nothing but   
a glorified bean counter, MacKelroy! You certainly aren't a commander -   
you don't have the brains or the strength of character to handle a   
position which requires both diplomacy and leadership! You want to waltz   
into Sisko's job and throw your weight around but you have no clue, not   
one! of what it takes to command in a forward area! You just got lucky   
enough to be promoted to the highest level of your incompetence!"

MacKelroy's face got redder and redder as Julian had obviously struck   
home with several of his barbs. //You know what, Bashir? The only reason   
you got all those medals and commendations is because you were   
programmed to!//

"So the fact that I'm genetically enhanced bothers you?"

//That's not what this is about, Bashir! I don't care enough about you   
to be bothered by whatever the hell it is you are - I have the *right*   
to cut you off because the simple fact is you don't work here anymore!   
You being a genetically engineered freak has no bearing on that!// he   
snapped. //Tell you the truth, I don't really give a shit about the fact   
that you're nothing but a glorified medical android! What bothers me is   
that you flounced around this station like you were leading some gay   
pride Mardi Gras, threw yourself at an enemy combatant for five years,   
then left this station wide open to Founder infiltration and Sisko   
*still* didn't have the balls to discipline you himself! I would have   
had you tossed out on your ass five minutes after you walked through my   
door!//

"Where in the hell do you get off-?" Julian's voice was as cold as ice.

//You'd think that if your parents were so concerned about their son   
being a defective they would have spent a few extra credits and fixed   
you so you'd grow up and become a man and not some prancing,   
namby-pamby, weak-wristed limy fop who fell into a Cardassian's bed the   
second he set foot on the station! My God, Bashir - you couldn't even   
control yourself enough to pick one of your own? You had to bed a   
Cardie? No wonder the Founders picked you! Of this whole freak show   
Sisko has up here you're the worst!// MacKelroy's voice was heavily   
laced with scorn. //I mean, here Sisko is setting himself up as the   
black Moses to the Bajoran yokels, a fucking Founder is playing sheriff   
on the Promenade when he should be sitting in someone's sample tray, and   
you - five minutes after you get suspended you've got Sisko sending you   
down to Bajor so you can play the little woman to your Cardie lover   
again. What's with that, Bashir? Were you blowing Sisko under the desk,   
too?//

"Fuck you!" Julian shouted as he smashed his fist into the monitor's off   
button, then picked up a padd and hurled it across the room. "Shit!!"

"Feel better?" Garak asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

"No!" His mouth tightened into a thin line as he turned to look at the   
Cardassian. "Ziyal is sick, Garak. She may be dying and that - that   
piece of *shite* is making it impossible for me to get to her because   
he's nothing but a bigoted prick who shouldn't be in charge of a   
latrine, much less Deep Space Nine!"

Garak stepped forward, his body tensing. "Ziyal's sick?"

"Yes," Julian answered, suddenly feeling defeated, "and she's not the   
only one." He explained the situation to Garak as quickly as he could   
while sparing none of the pertinent information.

Garak listened intently before speaking. "Can your team bring her down   
here for treatment?"

"Where? The monastery?" Julian asked incredulously. "Look around, Garak!   
Do you see what I'm working with down here? She needs an advanced   
medical facility. All the infected do if what's happening to her is   
anything to go by!"

Garak thought about that for a moment. "Can I use your comm unit?"

"Why?"

"I'm going to see if I have any more favors I can call in. In the   
meantime we need to comm Quark's."

"Quark's?" Julian stared at him. "What can Quark do?"

"It's not Quark I need to speak to." Garak said.

"Then who?"

"Morn."


	5. Rebellion

CHAPTER FIVE: Rebellion

 

Girani and Okuna helped Jake move Ziyal into the cabin of Morn's small   
freighter as Perreira finished securing the last of the equipment and   
diagnostic tools Bashir would need - at least until he could get Ziyal   
settled somewhere on Bajor, that is. None of them were operating under   
the illusion that the meager supplies they were able to smuggle out of   
the Infirmary would help much, but Okuna hoped they would help Bashir at   
least figure out what it was they were dealing with.

Morn was kind enough to show Perreira exactly where to load the medical   
equipment - somewhere that would be hidden from view during a normal   
inspection and shielded with high-grade duranium that would resist all   
but the most intensive tricorder scans. Odo, of course, already knew of   
Morn's little hideaway, but Okuna seriously doubted the constable would   
be tempted to point it out to anyone in case MacKelroy came looking.

As he watched Girani talk to Jake and Ziyal one last time, he resisted   
the urge to let loose with a back-breaking yawn. With Bashir gone and   
the Venture on patrol, they were working thirteen-hour shifts with   
Perreira working late morning to late evening mid-shift. The Venture   
would be back sometime tonight, but these long hours were still getting   
to him. His shift should have ended six hours ago and he was exhausted.

Not just exhausted--the lack of sleep was making him go a little loopy.   
Earlier when Girani dropped a PADD and bent over to pick it up he   
actually caught himself ogling her ass. Girani, for God's sake! That   
woman might have the body of a centerfold, but she had the attitude of a   
battle-scarred Klingon. He was just hard up, he reasoned. He hadn't   
gotten laid since Alita dumped him a month and a half ago and he was   
still adjusting from live-in pussy to Fistina and her five sisters.

Bitter? Oh hell yeah. That and horny, but as hard up as he was, sleeping   
with Girani was the last thing he'd ever do. Not in a million years. I   
like my balls just the way they are, he thought. Not busted up and   
tucked in the queen bitch of the medical profession's back pocket.

Okuna couldn't resist the urge to let out a yawn and was rewarded by   
Girani throwing him a rebuking look. Bite me, lady, he thought. You've   
only been on duty six hours, I'm on my nineteenth.

"You know, I'm surprised MacKelroy hasn't caught on to us yet," Perreira   
said from inside Morn's ship.

As if on cue, MacKelroy walked out of the turbolifts with a couple of   
Starfleet security officers in tow. "Doctors, you aren't at your post.   
The Infirmary is empty. I assume you have a reason for this?"

"We're loading a patient for transport," Girani said tersely.

"On a freighter?" he asked, eyeing the ship with disdain. "And I assume   
you have authorization to move this patient? Oh no, that's right; you   
don't. I should know because I didn't give you permission to do so."

"Since when do we have to ask permission from the CO to move one of our   
patients to Bajor?" Girani asked, outraged.

"She's a Bajoran national and the daughter of Gul Dukat - who, I might   
add, is a fugitive from Federation justice. Tora Ziyal is staying here   
and that's final," MacKelroy said, eyeballing Girani hard. "Should   
anything happen to her mid-transport we'd have an interplanetary   
incident on our hands."

"She needs medical care on Bajor that could save her life!"

"And she can receive better medical care in some backwater hospital on   
Bajor than she can in a state of the art Starfleet Infirmary?" MacKelroy   
asked in a dubious tone. "I doubt that, doctor. Either you get her back   
into the Infirmary or I'll throw all of you in the brig, understood?"

"You have no authority-"

"I have all the authority I need, Dr. Girani. Now I want you and Dr. Okuna-"

"Excuse me," Okuna said, lifting his hand in protest. "But I'm off duty   
and have been since 0500 this morning. Starfleet regulations state that   
unless I am on call or we are engaged in a medical emergency, my   
off-time is my own. Perreira is off duty as well. This is his scheduled   
lunch hour. You may be able to order Dr. Girani to return to her post,   
but as long as we aren't violating any express regulations, Perreira and   
I are free to go where ever we want."

"You're off duty?"

"Yes, sir," Okuna answered. "And right now we're here to see our friend   
Jake and his fiancée Ziyal off to Bajor."

Jake stepped out of the transport, his face grim as he eyed the   
Commander with distaste. "My fiancée and I are private citizens and are   
not under anyone's command, nor have we been arrested. Unless you want   
to explain to a Starfleet disciplinary tribunal why you illegally   
detained a citizen of the Federation and a citizen of Bajor from seeking   
a medical second opinion while using a privately owned mode of   
transport, I suggest you scurry back to whatever rock you crawled out   
from under."

"You're Ben Sisko's boy?" MacKelroy asked.

"I'm his *son*. I haven't been a boy for a while," Jake shot back.

"Do you think your old man will be happy to know you hooked up with Gul   
Dukat's illegitimate daughter while he was away?"

He glared at MacKelroy. "I think that it's none of your business,   
Commander. Now are you going to arrest us or are you going to step off?"

"Fine," MacKelroy said. "You want to take your little hybrid bride off   
to Bajor, be my guest. However, that doesn't let your friends here off   
the hook. Okuna, Perreira; you have five minutes to get out of here.   
Consider yourselves restricted to quarters until the Venture docks and   
we can get a replacement medical crew. Then I'm shipping you both back   
to Headquarters to face charges of gross insubordination. Girani, I   
can't court-martial you, but I can have you arrested for dereliction of   
duty."

"Bullshit," Girani said. "I'm a doctor affiliated with the Bajoran   
Militia. You have no authority over me. None. Only Major Kira has the   
right to cite me for dereliction."

"But this is my station and I can have you removed by force from it if   
necessary."

"No need," Girani said tossing her comm badge at him. "I quit. You can   
go fuck yourself, MacKelroy."

Perreira stepped out from behind Jake and moved to Girani's side. He   
slipped off his comm badge and tossed it so it landed beside Girani's.   
"I hereby resign my commission as well, sir."

"That goes for me, too," Okuna said, tossing off his badge and moving to   
join his colleagues.

"I could have all of you tossed in the brig for this, but to tell you   
the truth we'd be better off without you. The prototype LMH Dr.   
Zimmerman installed should be able to cover the Infirmary until the   
Venture docks," MacKelroy said with a small, mean smile. "Get off my   
station and if you set foot on it again, I'll have you arrested."

"We'll miss you, too, velhaco," Perreira muttered, climbing back into   
Morn's shuttle.

"When my dad gets back you are going to have a lot to answer for,   
MacKelroy," Jake said.

MacKelroy just smirked. "Make sure they leave within the next five   
minutes or impound that vehicle and put them all in a holding cell," he   
instructed the security officers then walked back into the turbolifts   
and left.

"Sorry about this, Dan," one of the security officers said to Okuna.

"It's all right, Joe. Do me a favor and let Major Kira know what   
happened? See if she can have some of our clothes and stuff sent to the   
monastery," Okuna said, shaking the man's hand before following Girani   
up the steps of Morn's ship. When he settled down into the tight space   
he turned to his companions and said, "I've got some clothes still down   
there. Until you guys get some sent down you can wear mine."

"I am not borrowing your underwear, Okuna," Girani said wearily.

"Like I want to share my gonch with you, Girani," Okuna retorted. "I was   
offering you a t-shirt or something, Christ."

"Thank you for doing this for us," Jake said quietly beside Ziyal.

"I can't believe you quit your jobs for me," Ziyal said, near tears.

"No big deal," Perreira said from the front of the cabin beside Morn. "I   
was planning on quitting anyway. I always had a dream of becoming an   
underwear model back on Earth." He curled his arm to show off his   
muscles. "All this is just wasted under a uniform."

"Cool it, Perreira," Girani complained. "I don't need motion sickness   
before we even take off."

"Did you catch the look on that monga's face when you told him to go   
fuck himself? I swear the babaca looked happy." Perreira snorted.

"He probably thought it was a compliment," Girani muttered.

"Light her up, Morn," Okuna said, settling back in his seat. "Go slow   
and wake me up when we get to Bajor."

The lumbering alien gave him the thumbs up from the captain's chair and   
started the engines.

******

The small ship arrived at the monastery an hour later. Garak and Julian   
met them outside the gates along with Brother Reven and Sister Marjay,   
who was the monastery's small animal veterinarian and part-time   
assistant in the children's infirmary.

After moving Ziyal to a cabin and getting her and Jake settled, they   
said their goodbyes to Morn, whose vessel was loaded down with several   
cases of aged Aguaba wine and ale, then retired to the dining hall.

"Sorry about the sandwiches," Sister Marjay said as she and Reven set   
several platters of cold cuts, salads, and freshly-baked bread on the   
table in front of them. "Mid meal isn't for another few hours and snacks   
around here usually consist of just fruit and cakes but we figured you   
might need something more substantial than that."

"Are you kidding? This is great!" Perreira said, grabbing some bread and   
loading it up with thin slices of braga fowl and spicy Tongolian   
mustard. "I can't even remember the last time I ate something that   
wasn't replicated."

"So you all just quit?" Bashir asked. "No one is on duty in the Infirmary?"

"The LMH is still there," Okuna said, piling his own sandwich high.

"I thought Miles and Zimmerman uninstalled that thing," Julian said with   
a frown.

Okuna shrugged. "I guess they didn't."

"MacKelroy seemed fairly confident it was still there," Girani said,   
scooping some salad onto her plate. She paused. "What about Jake and   
Ziyal? Did anyone tell them there was food-?"

The sister smiled and nodded. "One of the other monks brought a tray to   
their cabin - just salad and low-protein foods for Ziyal as per your   
instructions. I'm on my way over there now to sit with her."

"Good, she hasn't been eating well lately," Girani said, digging into   
her lunch.

"Thank you, sister," Okuna said as the monk left.

Garak leaned in. "How sick is Ziyal?" he asked.

"And what does this mean for Danna and the others?" Reven added.

"We just don't know yet," Julian said, sipping his tea. "I need to get   
samples from everyone - and that includes all of you. Morn's species is   
resistant to viruses so I didn't keep him here, but I want the rest of   
us tested. I don't have any of the virions in my blood stream but that   
doesn't mean it can't be carried by human hosts."

"Could the genetic enhancements be making you more resistant?" Perreira   
asked, then flushed. "Um, sorry doc. I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay. I thought of that and that's why I need the rest of you   
tested. We do know Bajorans can carry it - Reven has antibodies in his   
system but I haven't been able to use them to create a workable vaccine.   
That means all of you are under quarantine with the rest of us until we   
figure this out."

"It's not like we have anywhere else to be," Okuna said with a shrug.

Perreira groaned. "My sister Eva is going to have a cow when she finds   
out I walked off the job. She already thinks I'm wasting my life being a   
surgical nurse - I can hear her comm message now."

"I say screw our careers," Girani said, spearing a chunk of vegetable   
with a fork. "The job is about saving patients, not about kissing up to   
some asshole who wants to be the Federation's version of Gul Dukat. That   
guy is seriously trying to start another Occupation."

"Has he been screened?" Garak asked.

"First thing I checked on after his little 'staff meeting' the other   
day," Girani said ruefully. "He's human - barely, but he checks clean."

"His behavior doesn't make any sense," Garak said quietly. "It's as   
though he's attempting to purposefully undermine everything Sisko and   
the rest of you have accomplished since coming to Bajoran space. If he's   
not a Founder, then what would be his motivation for breaking down   
Sisko's command and forcing out his senior officers?"

"He's a megalomaniac?" Perreira suggested, taking a big bite out of his   
sandwich.

"Possibly, but from the way all of you have described him he isn't   
stupid - narrow-minded and rigid, but not stupid. There is a method to   
his madness, to quote a famous Klingon."

"You think we made a mistake quitting like that?" Okuna asked.

Garak shook his head. "He didn't give you a choice, but all of this is   
too coincidental for my tastes. I do know that this all starts with Dr.   
Bashir. He's who MacKelroy seems to be focused on. And Zimmerman   
exposing him? The timing of that bothers me." He turned to Julian. "You   
returned from the prison asteroid, saving the Alpha Quadrant in the   
process, and received a medal from the Provisional Government and a   
Starfleet commendation. Then suddenly Zimmerman showed up, apparently to   
discredit you. Dr. Okuna said he didn't seem to want to be there, that   
he had planned to make himself the model for the LMH program and was   
reluctant to involve you at all."

"That's true." Okuna looked at Bashir. "We didn't want to burst your   
bubble about being the model for the LMH but every time you turned your   
back that guy was bad-mouthing you. It was like he wanted to dig up dirt   
on you."

"I sensed that, actually," Julian said wryly. "He wasn't exactly subtle."

"And he was hard up for research grants," Perreira said. "I walked in on   
him talking to someone on the comm unit and demanding he get his grant   
approved or he was heading back to Jupiter Station. Next thing you know,   
Leeta was telling people that after knowing her for all of two seconds   
this guy wanted to set her up with a café of her own. That seemed a   
little funny, but at the time I thought the spiel he laid on her about   
'taking her away from all this' was just another line of merda, and not   
a very creative one either."

"Still," Garak said after finishing his tea, "if we look only at the   
events of the past week, we can see a thread running through it all.   
First, Captain Sisko was ordered by Admiral Ross to place Dr. Bashir on   
a six-month suspension. Then he was called away from the station   
unexpectedly and replaced by MacKelroy, who, as you may know, is Ross's   
wife's nephew."

Bashir's eyes met Girani's; he hadn't realized that.

"Upon his arrival on Deep Space Nine," Garak continued, "Commander   
MacKelroy immediately began to undermine the relationship between the   
Federation and Bajor, as if that were the first item on his hidden agenda."

"And the only senior officers in the sector are off on away missions,"   
Okuna added. "And they're under comm silence."

"Which I don't believe is a coincidence," Garak said. "But even though   
he had a station to run and he was suddenly in charge of Starfleet's   
presence in this sector, he also took the time out to persecute you, Dr.   
Bashir." He pinned Julian with a look.

"Well, he sure seems to have been paying the Infirmary a hell of a lot   
of attention," Girani snorted. "The minute we all left, he tracked us   
down *and* he brought security with him!"

Garak nodded. "And that's an important point: he's done everything   
possible to interfere with Dr. Bashir's duties, but he's also done his   
best to interfere with the jobs of those trying to help him. Everything   
else, including his ostensible duties as station commander, seems to   
have gone by the wayside. We have to ask ourselves why he targeted the   
Infirmary, of all places."

"But what about the virus? I see where you're going with this theory,   
but MacKelroy can't be behind it. It's definitely manufactured, yes, but   
even the Federation doesn't have the level of technology needed to   
create something that sophisticated," Julian pointed out.

"MacKelroy's a filho da puta in any case," Perreira said, munching on   
his salad.

"MacKelroy might not be able to cut his way out of a brown paper sack if   
you spotted him the scissors, but the Founders can," Okuna said quietly.   
"I've looked at that thing upside-down and sideways - it reminds me of   
something I saw in connection to Founder technology but I can't remember   
what."

"Son of a-" Julian jumped up from the table and headed toward the   
infirmary. The rest of them exchanged looks then went to follow him.

Julian was looking at the image of the virion on the scanner. Beside it   
was a similar image, only this one was blue.

"What is that?" Okuna said, coming closer. "Wait, that's-"

"Exactly."

"I don't understand," Reven said with a frown.

"When the Jem'Hadar are created," Julian explained, "they are born   
without certain isogenic enzymes. A drug called ketracel white allows   
them to live but they can't be off it for long without going through a   
withdrawal process that damages their organs leading to -"

"Metabolic acidosis - fuck." Okuna said. "We never even thought of   
connecting the two."

"We didn't have time," Girani said with a scowl. "In the last few days   
MacKelroy has kept us jumping through hoops. Can we convert the ketracel   
white into some kind of medicine to treat Ziyal?"

"I don't know," Julian said. "I can look into treating her with yridium   
bicantizine and see if that relieves the symptoms but it's a long shot."

"Um, I don't know if I should bring this up or not, but..." Okuna looked   
at Garak from the corner of his eye.

Girani sighed. "Do it."

"Ziyal's pregnant," Okuna said at last. "Won't the white hurt the fetus?"

"Ziyal is pregnant?" Garak asked in surprise.

"She was afraid you would be disappointed in her if you found out,"   
Okuna said.

"I'll have to speak to her later," Garak said, suddenly looking very   
tired. "But for the record, I would never hurt her by rejecting her like   
that."

Okuna shrugged. "I tried to tell her that but she was afraid."

Julian watched the interplay between Garak and Okuna and had to   
extinguish the momentary flare of jealousy he felt toward the younger   
physician. Once upon a time he and Garak used to discuss matters in that   
way. "I'll look at that as an option but I doubt it will work. The   
Hadar's physiology is completely different and the white is specifically   
designed to work only for them."

"Hey!" Perreira cried. "Not to interrupt, but if MacKelroy's not a   
Founder then what would be the point of his advancing their agenda?"

"Just because this is based upon Founder technology doesn't mean it is a   
Founder creation," Garak pointed out. "It all started with you." He   
turned to Julian. "Your research into the ketracel white, perhaps?"

Julian shook his head, "I'm months, possibly years from a solution."

"It has to do with Ross, too," Okuna said, pacing a bit and tapping his   
chin thoughtfully. "Something besides Sisko going over his head to   
Gilhouley must have set him off."

"Gilhouley..." Julian wracked his brain trying to think of anything of   
significance that linked the Admiral to what he'd been researching.   
"I've only spoken to the admiral once and that was right after the   
Founder impersonating me was killed. All of my research goes through   
Admiral Nechayev's office."

Garak frowned. "What did you talk about?"

Julian leaned his elbow on the desk and turned to Garak. "It was about   
what the Founder said before he died; about how the Federation planned   
the destruction of the Founder home world and used Cardassia as a front.   
Some shadow group was supposedly behind it all, remember? Section 31."

Garak's mouth tightened in a thin line. "31, of course."

"You've heard of them; I remember you all but said so to the Founder."   
Julian looked at him carefully. "Gilhouley told me there was no such   
group operating within Starfleet."

"Section 31 is very real, doctor," Garak answered grimly. "They don't   
operate in the open. They aren't even classified as a covert ops group   
like the Obsidian Order or the Tal Shiar. They're more like an illegal   
terrorist organization run by a few 'patriots' who feel that the   
Federation's ideals are a bit naïve when it comes to dealing with other   
intelligence organizations and hostile governments."

Okuna stopped pacing and looked from Garak to Julian. "So Gilhouley told   
Ross that Dr. Bashir mentioned Section 31 and that set this whole thing   
off?"

"No," Julian answered, slumping slightly in his chair in front of the   
monitor. "Fuck - I told him. When I sent in my report I mentioned   
Section 31 even though I had the feeling at the time that Gilhouley was   
trying to warn me off. I caused this."

"Okay," Girani said, leaning on the edge of the desk on the other side   
of Julian "I get the fact that this Section 31 tried to discredit Julian   
by enlisting Zimmerman to dig up dirt, but what does that have to do   
with the virus?"

Julian thought about that for a minute. "I've been testing Reven's blood   
samples against Danna's. Reven had the virus but his body was able to   
fight it off. Danna, however, still has the virus."

"Danna is part Cardassian," Reven said from beside Perreira, "as is Ziyal."

"This is directed toward the Cardassians?" Perreira asked. "Why? Since   
Dukat went underground the Cardassians have been defending their borders   
against the Jem'Hadar just like we have."

"But if there's one thing we learned during the Occupation it's that   
Cardassians are always looking at different angles," Girani said.   
"They'll do whatever it takes; anything and everything to advance   
themselves or Cardassia."

"Exactly," Julian said with a scowl. "Right now the powers that be are   
resisting the Dominion influence, but it's just a matter of time before   
someone else with Dukat's mindset decides to take up where he left off   
and set themselves up as the supreme ruler of Cardassia and backed by   
the Dominion."

"Goris was very vocal in calling Dukat a traitor and has denounced his   
plans of bringing Cardassia into the Dominion," Garak said, "but Revok,   
even though he appears to be supporting Goris at the moment, is just as   
ambitious as Dukat. It wouldn't surprise me if Goris wound up with   
Revok's blade buried in his back. This is merely speculation, but if I   
were a member of Section 31 I know why I would set loose this type of   
virus. It appears harmless to everyone but those with Cardassian blood.   
I think it's safe to say that Cardassia and not the hybrid population on   
Bajor is the real target of this virus."

"Then how did Ziyal and the rest of us get exposed?" Reven asked.

"What if Dukat was Patient Zero, not Ziyal?" Julian asked. "His behavior   
was a bit off right before he disappeared, at least from what I was   
told, and he hasn't been seen since. What if Dukat became infected   
first, then passed it to Ziyal, and Ziyal passed it on to everyone else?"

"Why didn't I get sick?" Garak asked.

"I don't know. I need to get a sample of your blood and see."

"How do we know it was this Section 31 and not the Founders who started   
this plague?" Girani asked.

"Motivation," Garak replied. "Ziyal has been infected for roughly three   
months. Had the Founder succeeded, he would have destroyed Bajor. There   
would be no point in infecting her. Also, the Dominion wishes to ally   
itself with Cardassia; they have no reason to set a plague upon them.   
Section 31, however, has used methods like this in the past." He shook   
his head. "The intelligence community is small but still we don't know   
much about this group except that they bill themselves as judge, jury,   
and executioner working for the good of the Federation."

"I find it hard to believe this group exists," Okuna said. "The   
Federation just doesn't do things like that."

"It would be naive to assume we didn't," Julian said. "I remember   
hearing a rumor about an Admiral Pressman a few years back. He'd been   
testing some kind of illegal device for a covert agency but no one ever   
mentioned what that agency was."

"So how do we kill this thing?" Okuna asked.

"Since we can't turn to Starfleet for help, we need to turn to the   
Bajoran government," Julian answered. "Get the Ministry of Health   
involved and have them get us some equipment and some more doctors."

Girani sighed. "Good luck. Shakaar gave Kira the runaround when she   
asked him to step in and curb MacKelroy. They aren't going to do   
anything to aggravate the situation between us and the Federation. And   
since it's 'just' the hybrids, don't expect a lot of sympathy."

"I think I know someone with the resources to help," Garak said,   
obviously deep in thought. "Let's just hope he agrees to do it."

 

*****

 

"Deputy Minister Krath," Garak said as the comm unit connected. "Thank   
you for taking my call."

//Mr. Garak - I'm sorry,// Krath apologized, //it's Brother Elim now,   
isn't it?//

Garak nodded. "I need your help, sir."

//My help?//

"I would understand if you refused me Minister, but the lives of several   
innocent Bajorans depend upon my asking."

Krath's forehead furrowed in concern. //Is this concerning another   
threat by the Dominion?//

"Yes and no," Garak said after a moment, "I need to speak to you not as   
a politician in this matter but as a private citizen."

//It's hard to separate the two, Brother Elim,// Krath said, looking at   
him curiously.

"In this case you may not have a choice. We have reason to believe the   
hybrid children of Bajor are infected with an engineered virus. It's   
killing them, Minister."

Krath scowled. //Is this related to the previous attempt on Bajor by the   
Founders?//

"The virus is based on Founder technology, yes. However, we have reason   
to suspect it may be a covert group with in the Federation itself that   
is responsible for unleashing the virus."

//Why would the Federation do something like that?// Krath asked. //Last   
I looked we were allies.//

"Minister, the virus is not targeted toward the Bajorans but toward   
those with Cardassian blood. The hybrid children are merely innocent   
bystanders in this."

//I see.// Krath thought for a moment. //This is a conundrum, Brother   
Elim. On one hand we're talking about the lives of Bajoran citizens, but   
on the other hand the idea of eliminating a virus that could rid Bajor   
of its greatest enemy would make many of my fellow politicians err on   
the side of caution. The good of the many, Brother Elim-//

"Outweighs the good of the few, and normally I would agree," Garak   
finished for him, "but these children do not deserve to die because one   
shadow group has decided they are merely collateral damage. As a   
politician I know that you have to go with what is best for Bajor as a   
whole. That is why I am asking you to save these lives as a private   
citizen. We need resources and equipment, Minister. We need contacts and   
doctors willing to help us fight this epidemic. You are a man of wealth.   
You can provide these things for us if you are willing." He gave him a   
significant look. "You once said you felt some guilt over the death of   
the woman your former wife and your publicist murdered, Vedek Merel's   
grandniece. Minister, one of the children who could die from this plague   
is the unborn grandchild of Benjamin Sisko, the Emissary of the   
Prophets. You had no power to stop the murder of Kel Sinles, Minister   
Krath, but you can help save these children."

Krath stared at him long and hard. //You fight dirty, Brother Elim.//

"I do when I have no other choice," Garak agreed.

//And the Federation will not offer you any assistance?// Krath asked.

"The new commander, this MacKelroy -"

//Oh, yes; Shakaar was just briefing me on him,// Krath said grimly.

"We have reason to suspect he's a willing participant in this   
conspiracy," Garak said. "I don't know how deep this goes, but I doubt   
we'll be able to get outside help here in time. We need to handle this   
ourselves."

//Bajor for Bajor, fighting to keep Bajoran assets Bajoran - this is   
starting to mirror one of my campaign speeches.//

"Will you help?" Garak asked.

Krath sighed. //I'll brief Shakaar - unofficially of course, just to   
keep him in the loop. We can't use any government funds or resources. If   
we do then we'll leave ourselves open to interference from the   
Provisional Government. I'll foot the bill for any equipment you need.   
I'll hop on a shuttle and be there by late afternoon.//

"You don't need to expose yourself to danger, Minister," Garak objected.

//You said this is only targeting Cardassians.//

"There is evidence that Bajorans can be infected. As of now, it appears   
to only cause a mild respiratory infection, but we don't know as of yet   
if the virus can mutate into a more dangerous form that could cause a   
more serious condition in Bajorans as well."

//If this virus is killing Bajorans, purebred or hybrid, I need to be   
there,// Krath said. //I appreciate the concern but if the Occupation   
didn't kill me then neither will this.//

"I look forward to seeing you again, Minister."

//And you as well.//

"He seems like a good man," Julian said from the other side of the room.

"He is," Garak said without turning around. "Am I infected, doctor?"

Julian looked up from the microscope, "You have antibodies, but no   
virus, just like most of the Bajorans."

"How can that be?" he asked. "I'm a full-blooded Cardassian."

Julian shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe the original virus mutated in   
Ziyal's system and now only affects hybrids for some reason. We're still   
figuring it out. Most of this is just speculation on our part."

"How many children are infected?"

"All of them," Julian said. "All that I've tested anyway. Girani and   
Perreira are getting the samples while Okuna catches some rack time, but   
every child I've tested so far is positive."

"All of them?" Garak repeated quietly.

"All of them. And Lewin was one of the first ones I tested. He's   
definitely infected."

"How long does he have?" Garak asked, his expression unreadable.

"I have no way of knowing," Julian replied. "Chances are the pregnancy   
advanced Ziyal's infection rate, but if Ziyal is stage four then I'd say   
Danna is stage two and Lewin is at stage one. It may be his age;   
children get sick easier than adults but they also have stronger immune   
systems and get over infections easier."

"And five is death?"

"Five is terminal, yes," Julian answered.

"Three months between stage one and stage four," Garak said to himself   
softly.

"We don't know anything yet, Garak. Remember, this is all speculation   
and part of Ziyal's problem may be strain from the pregnancy."

Garak shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose as though fending   
off a headache.

Julian walked over to him and placed his hand on the Cardassian's   
shoulder. "I will do everything I can, Garak. You have my word."

"I know," Garak said roughly.

Julian got down on his knees and looked up into Garak's face. "You have   
to keep positive, Garak. If Lewin senses your distress then -"

"I know," Garak said cutting him off. He looked into his eyes and Julian   
could see the pain revealed there. "I should be used to this by now.   
This isn't the first time I've faced the loss of someone I care for, nor   
is it the first time I've lost-" He stopped.

"Did you ever have a child, Garak?" Julian asked. "Before Lewin and   
Kela, I mean?"

"No," Garak said, then in a softer voice answered, "Not really, no."

"Who was Anwen?"

Garak's head snapped up and his eyes turned an icy blue. "Where did you   
hear that name?" he demanded sharply.

"You were muttering it in your sleep the other night." Julian said,   
taken aback. "I don't mean to pry-"

"Then don't!" Garak said, rising up from his chair and turning his back   
to him. "Just do your job and save the children, doctor."

"Damn it, Garak! Why won't you let me in?" Julian demanded. "You know I   
will do everything I can to save Lewin and everyone else. Just talk to   
me! How can you have revealed so much of yourself to-"

"The Founder?" Garak cut him off, turning around to face him again.   
"We've already had this argument."

"Not just the Founder," Julian said. "The children, the monks, Dan   
Okuna, this Minister Krath - all of them seem to know you better than I   
do! Why? Why all of them and not me? I was your friend for five years,   
Garak!"

"What we were, doctor, was verbal sparring partners, nothing more."

"Bullshit!" Julian stepped up to Garak and poked his finger into his   
chest. "When I was in the prison camp do you want to know what I thought   
about day in and day out?"

"We shouldn't be rehashing all this -" Garak began.

"I thought about YOU!" Julian said, talking over Garak's objections.   
"All Tain would say was that you would come for us - *us* - not just   
him. He saw what I couldn't see, Garak. He saw that you were in love   
with me and - and I-" He reached out and touched Garak's face, leaning   
forward  
slightly. "Garak, I-"

Garak moved away from Julian's caress and turned his back to him.

"Garak-"

"Stay away from me," Garak said and left the room.

******

Garak, I love you.

Garak, I think I love you.

Garak, there is a distinct possibility that I could have been in love   
with you but then I got shit-scared and fucked it all up.

Garak, I am deeply in something approaching lust with you.

Garak, I'm highly confused and sexually frustrated, wanna shag?

"You're a fucking twat, Bashir," he muttered to himself as he checked   
the next slide. "It's not like you have anything more important to do,   
like, I don't know, save the lives of twenty-three people and an unborn   
child?"

Moron.

Or what is it Miles would call him? 'Eejut'.

He sighed and moved on to the next slide, pushing Garak out of his mind.   
All the half-Cardassian children and adults were infected and so far all   
the Bajorans showed signs of having been exposed. Girani had the   
infection as well but Perreira and Okuna were still clear, making him   
believe that whatever common ancestry allowed the Bajorans and   
Cardassians to produce children together also made them vulnerable to   
the infection.

That's where he would start, he decided. What is it that Bajorans and   
Cardassians had in common that they didn't share with humans? Ziyal's   
pregnancy seemed to factor into her illness - could it be within the   
reproductive system? The reproductive system, the endocrine system; they   
were closely connected.

He'd suspected once, a long time ago, that the Cardassians and Bajorans   
shared more than just the Occupation in common. Usually when two people   
of different species produced children there was some level of medical   
intervention involved in the process. In the species close enough in   
genetic makeup to procreate naturally, there was usually some kind of   
flaw present in their offspring, such as infertility. That wasn't the   
case with the Bajoran-Cardassian hybrids. They were fertile and their   
gestational period was only slightly longer than that of pure-blooded   
Bajorans. He'd have to get Okuna in on it to double-check, but he was   
fairly certain the genetics would prove his theory correct.

So what was it the virus attacked? Bajorans were a healthy people;   
nature had designed them with hearty immune systems to combat most   
common illnesses. Their first line of defense came in utero. The average   
Bajoran pregnancy was 18-22 weeks long. Human fetal lungs did not mature   
until 24-26 weeks' gestation; if Human infants were delivered any   
earlier, they had to be placed in a pseudo-sac or transferred into a   
surrogate, as in Kirayoshi O'Brien's case. Bajorans also had a strong   
tradition of breastfeeding their children until they were four or five,   
which probably also contributed to their strong immune systems. Then   
there were their complex sinus filters, by far their best defense   
against airborne viruses.

But Cardassians...it aggravated him that they were so closed-mouthed   
about medical matters. Cardassians were physically strong, stronger than   
Bajorans or humans, but in terms of their immune systems they were far   
more vulnerable to disease. This was mostly due to their reluctance to   
seek medical attention in a timely manner, but another factor was their   
society's odd aversion to medical research. A human with access to   
proper medical care could have a life expectancy of well over 150 years.   
The Occupation had naturally had an unfortunate effect on the health and   
life expectancy of the Bajorans but, once their world fully recovered,   
and with access to food replicators and modern medicines, there was no   
reason not to believe Bajorans could live to be over 150 as well. The   
average Cardassian male was considered long-lived at eighty - far less   
than what they could live to be. Garak, at fifty or so, was in far   
better health than the majority of his peers. Part of that must   
certainly have come from his living on the station, but that wasn't the   
whole story.

Garak's diet was different than most of his fellow Cardassians,   
something Julian noted during their many, many lunches together. He only   
occasionally visited restaurants that served 'real' food when he lived   
on the station despite his professed love for rich and exotic dishes.   
Replicated food was his mainstay, and being replicated it was always   
well-balanced and nutritionally enhanced. Julian preferred replicated   
food as well. Everyone was always moaning and saying how much better   
'natural' food tasted, but how else could you eat a huge banana split   
with double everything and get the same nutritional value as a serving   
of steamed vegetables? Especially since the newer replicators could be   
programmed to adjust the calorie and fat content while keeping the same   
flavor profiles.

Even here at the monastery, Garak watched his diet. From what Okuna   
said, Garak mainly ate vegetables and whole-grain breads with a small   
amount of meat, and he used almost no sugar. He also didn't drink except   
on rare occasions, something unheard of in a Cardassian. They were   
creatures of indulgence. Food, drink, sex - natural hedonists.

Was it Garak's unusual self-discipline that boosted his immune system   
enough to fight off the virus? Ziyal had been malnourished and   
traumatized during her years in the slave encampment; the proper   
nutrition she'd received since arriving on DS9 wouldn't erase the damage   
done over that many years of neglect.

Julian groaned to himself as he leaned back in his chair. The simple   
fact was that all of it, every damned bit of it, was merely supposition.   
He looked back at the image before him and concentrated on it, willing   
his mind to make sense of what he was seeing. The answer was there;   
right there before his eyes...

...tap tap tap...

...tap tap tap...

...tap tap tap...

Julian frowned down at his keyboard, fiddled with the terminal's sound   
controls; where was that annoying sound coming from?

"Ahem."

Julian swiveled in his seat to find Girani, Perreira and a   
bedraggled-looking Okuna all staring at him, Girani's left foot beating   
an annoyed tattoo on the floor. "What?"

Girani raised an eyebrow. "Dinner."

"Already?" Julian asked as he looked at the chrono.

"Yes, and we're not waiting for you or bringing you a tray," Girani   
said. "Move it or lose it, Bashir."

Julian scowled. "I have work to do."

"Tough," she said in a no-nonsense tone.

"I am still the senior officer here, Girani," Julian said, turning his   
chair toward them.

Perreira grinned. "Um, technically, doc, we're all unemployed so no,   
you're not."

"Shut up, Perreira. You're still just the nurse," Girani said without   
even bothering to look at him.

Perreira looked at her. "That's just cold."

"Can we go eat?" Okuna asked as he leaned against the doorjamb. "I want   
to go back to bed before my shift starts."

"Shift?" Julian asked.

Girani nodded, "While you were staring at our little red fiend there,   
the rest of us worked out a shift schedule."

Julian looked at her. "Without consulting me?"

"Does she ever consult anyone about anything?" Okuna asked, rolling his   
eyes.

"Relax," Girani said. "It's the same one as on the station with a few   
minor modifications."

"Hey, can we go eat?" Perreira asked, hitching his thumb toward the   
dining hall. "Those kids are rushing over there and I got a feeling   
they're going to wait on us like one dog waits on another. They don't   
have replicators here, y'know."

"Let's go," Girani ordered. She motioned for Julian to follow. "We'll   
brief you on what we worked out during dinner."

Julian scowled and switched off his monitor then went to join his team.

As he trailed after them he muttered, "'Think of it as a vacation' they   
said. Right."


	6. Rabble Rousers

CHAPTER SIX: Rabble Rousers

 

"What I'm saying is that there are four of us, six if you count the   
vets," Girani pointed out. "They can look after the kids while we take   
shifts with the more advanced cases."

"The dining hall is kept unlocked so you won't have to break up your   
sleep schedules to get your meals." Reven said as he passed the bread.

Marjay placed a pitcher of tea on the table and nodded. "We put Ziyal   
and Jake in one of the double cabins. I'll move into the second room so   
I can monitor her through the night and be close in case they need me."

Perreira reached for a piece of bread and smiled in thanks as Marjay   
filled his glass. "So who's working nights?"

"Do we even need a graveyard shift?" Okuna asked, still looking   
bedraggled. "If Sister Marjay is going to be sleeping in their cabin..."

"Julian can't be on the microscope 26 hours a day," Girani said. "One of   
us always needs to be on research."

"You're an OB/Gyn," Julian pointed out, digging into his plate. "Okuna   
and I would do best on research."

"I knew I was going to get stuck on nights again," Okuna whined.

"No one needs to work nights," Garak said as he tucked a napkin into   
Kela's collar. "Now eat."

"But it's green," the little girl complained.

"Green is good, menina pequena." Perreira stabbed a bunch of salad   
greens and ate them, chewing with robust appreciation. "MMM! Minha mãe   
used to tell me when I was a little boy, 'Se você comer todos seus   
vegetais você crescerá o cabelo em sua caixa!'"

Everyone at the table stopped to look at Perreira.

"Uh, dude...hate to break it to you, but you're the only one here that   
speaks Portuguese," Okuna said. "What the heck is that supposed to mean   
anyway?"

"You eat all your vegetables and you will grow hair on your chest,"   
Perreira said, gesturing to his salad.

"Ew!" Kela pushed her salad away from her with a grimace.

"You're never going to get her to eat that now," Lewin said, shaking his   
head.

"What?" Perreira said to Okuna who was rolling his eyes. "I have to   
listen to all your weird Canadian stuff all the time; 'That guy is a   
real keener', 'this is skookum soup', 'my ginch is riding up my bum'!"   
he huffed. "At least I talk sense when I speak."

"That's a matter of opinion," Girani muttered.

"Getting back to the subject at hand," Julian said, drawing everyone's   
attention, "as long as Ziyal is the only critical patient we have I   
don't think we need a night shift. We can all work from after breakfast   
to sometime after dinner, we'll take turns relieving Sister Marjay, and   
we'll all be on call at night. It's not like the orphanage is that big."

"That might work for now," Garak said, wiping his mouth on his napkin,   
"but it may not be a long-term solution."

"Garak has a point," Girani said as she met Julian's eyes. "If people   
start getting worse than they are right now, there's no way we can   
handle all of them by ourselves."

"Minister Krath is coming this evening to assess the situation for   
himself so that he can provide us with equipment and other needed   
resources." Garak looked around the table. "It may help if you all made   
lists of whatever you need and if you, Dr. Girani, began to call around   
to whatever medical contacts you have on Bajor and see if anyone would   
be willing to volunteer their services."

"All of my contacts are within the Health Ministry," Girani said after a   
moment's thought. "If we're trying to avoid involving any government   
agencies in this then that might not be a good idea."

"We have sister monasteries with medical missions," Reven said.   
"Hendrikspool is our mental rest facility, but they do have a medical   
staff as well. Danna talked to Owin Grea earlier and he said that Vedek   
Merel would be contacting other medical mercy missions for help. She's   
also calling on her contacts in family and child services and having all   
hybrid children within the public orphanage system tested. If any are   
infected they'll be sent to us."

"I'm hoping that won't happen," Julian said. "We're working under the   
assumption that Ziyal is our patient zero. She's only had contact with   
the people here."

Reven shook his head. "We are self-reliant in terms of food and other   
things we make and grow ourselves, but we do receive visitors, doctor.   
Any one of us could have passed the infection on to a visiting cleric,   
or a member of the Family Court system here to drop off a child. Our   
monks often go into town to sell our wines at this time of year. Who   
knows how far the infection has spread?"

"This could be a world-wide epidemic before we know it," Girani murmured.

"Suddenly, I've lost my appetite," Okuna said, staring at his plate.

"This is ridiculous," Julian growled. "How much worse is this week going   
to get? Next thing you know we'll be dealing with a bloody pandemic."

"Don't borrow trouble, doctor," Reven warned him.

"He's right," Garak said. "Only deal with the facts as you know them. If   
you start thinking ahead of the situation it will overwhelm you. One   
step at a time."

"I thought you told me to always think three steps ahead," Okuna said   
with a grin.

Julian glanced at Okuna then back at Garak. "He's often said the same   
thing to me as well."

Garak addressed Okuna. "Only in matters that call for such a strategy,"   
Garak said to Okuna. "We must deal with certainties, not vague   
possibilities, and at this point we simply don't have enough information   
to reliably predict what will occur."

"In other words, assume others are going to get sick but until they do,   
deal with the ones we know who are," Julian added. "I should be there   
when you meet with Minister Krath in case he has any medical questions.   
I don't know a lot about him except that he used to be the conservative   
candidate who ran against Shakaar in the last election and now he's his   
Deputy Minister. They do seem to make a rather odd couple considering   
their different political bent."

Garak nodded. "In some ways, yes. However Krath has always been more on   
the moderate end of the conservative party."

"To tell you the truth, I almost voted for him before he dropped out of   
the election," Girani said. "He had some good points about how Bajoran   
needs to seek fiscal independence. As it is, we need outside contacts   
like the Ferengi to distribute goods manufactured on Bajor. His campaign   
wasn't really about being anti-Federation as much as it was about being   
pro-Bajor."

"He's a good man, a very grounded politician, and he built his business   
from the ground up after the Occupation," Reven added.

"How did he manage that?" Perreira asked. "I mean, after the Cardassians   
left how did he manage to begin a manufacturing company?

"I'm bored!" Kela said, looking up at Garak. "All this stuff is boring."

"Lewin, take Kela to get some dessert and you can both go sit with your   
friends," Garak said, helping Kela out of her chair.

"Yes, sir-hey!" he said, stopping Kela with one hand. "Your plate!"

"Oh-kay." Kela said, scowling at him as she picked it up.

"Thank you," Garak said, before turning back to Perreira. "Krath worked   
in the mines on Terok Nor during the Occupation from the time he was a   
young boy. He had an affinity with fixing things so he was trained in   
engineering and eventually became head of maintenance there."

"A collaborator?" Okuna asked.

"Krath?" Girani snorted. "No, he did his part. He may have fixed the   
replicators, but he also figured out how to program them. He was able to   
replicate parts and smuggle them out piece-by-piece so he could create   
food replicators for the slaves. He prevented a lot of people from   
starving to death. After the Occupation, he took his skills and built   
his own replicators. That's still the mainstay of Krath Industries: food   
replicators, recyclers - things like that."

Garak turned to Reven. "I'll need permission to have Krath install at   
least two food replicators. I know it's not-"

Reven stopped him, "As long as the replicators are used for the patients   
who need them," he said, "I think we can make an exception. I'll ask   
Danna to be on the safe side. It's been rather difficult for our monks   
to come up with a menu which works within the parameters the doctors   
gave us in regards to Ziyal's low protein diet. If this helps then we   
will do what we must." Reven looked up; Julian followed his gaze to see   
Danna walk through the doors of the Dining hall. "He must have finished   
talking with Vedek Merel. She called him back just before dinner. Will   
you excuse me?" he said before rising up from the table to join him.

"So," Okuna said as he put down his napkin, "we have a plan, or the   
start of one anyway."

Girani turned to Julian. "We still need to get in contact with the   
Venture when she docks. We can't just ignore MacKelroy. Whether there is   
a conspiracy behind this or not, that man is completely out of control."

Julian smiled grimly. "Oh, I get the feeling that both Dax and Captain   
Figueiredo will figure that out for themselves soon enough."

******

Dax shook out her ponytail with a sigh of relief. "I say that after a   
week like that, the first thing we need to do is hit Quark's and have   
some fun!"

"Just two wild women with a pocket full of credits, willing to get all   
liquored up!" Her companion said coming up behind her.

"Hey!" the man walking beside her cried out, his brown eyes sparkling in   
mock annoyance. "Are you forgetting about me, wild woman?"

"You, Alvaro, my husband, my love, I could never forget," Captain   
Gabriela Figueiredo said to him teasingly, wrapping her arm around his   
waist and giving him a quick kiss.

"Damn right," Alvaro grinned.

"You are such a pain." Fig shook her head in amusement stretching her   
arms over her head. "I still don't see how you can stand being on the   
Defiant, Jadzia. I swear that thing is as cramped as hell!"

"It's not so bad when you get used to it," she replied. "I'll admit   
though that the Venture is a really sweet ship. You'll have to invite me   
to captain her again sometime."

Fig shot her a look. "Watch it: the Venture is my baby. I only switched   
with you during that last run to make the maneuvers more interesting for   
the crew."

Dax grinned. "The crew was fairly motivated by the change. It's not   
every day you get to go gunning for your own captain."

"But I had them chasing their tails!" Fig said with a triumphant wiggle   
to her walk. "They didn't even come close to finding me."

"Well, to be fair, you were on a cloaked ship," Dax pointed out.

"It was pure skill, not the cloak - don't be a hater."

"That's my girl!" Alvaro said, patting his wife on the butt. "You gave   
them hell, meu amor!"

"Damn straight," Fig said jogging a step or two ahead, then turned to   
her companions with a grin. "So, drinks on my crew tonight--you ready?"

"I've been ready for ages!" Dax said. She frowned suddenly, looking over   
Fig's shoulder. "What's that?"

Fig turned around and looked. There was a huge crowd assembled in front   
of Quarks making angry noises.

"You can't do this!" Quark was insisting as he confronted a tall, broad   
man wearing a Starfleet uniform. One of the security officers in front   
of the man stopped Quark with an outstretched hand.

"Keep back, sir."

"I have a lease!" Quark shouted. "This is illegal! Odo! Where the hell   
is Odo when you actually need him?!?"

As Dax and the Figueiredos approached they were able to see the pips   
that proclaimed the stranger to be a commander.

"This bar is closed!" the commander said to the crowd in a loud voice.   
"From here on out there will be no gambling on Deep Space Nine, nor will   
any other illegal activities be tolerated!"

"Gambling isn't illegal on Bajor!" Leeta protested, standing behind Quark.

The Starfleet officer sneered at her. "This station is not Bajor," he   
said dismissively.

The crowd began to boo but the commander continued with his   
proclamation. "No gambling! No prostitution!" He directed a pointed look   
at Leeta when he said that and she gasped in outrage. "No alcoholic   
beverages! Any restaurant or other business serving anything other than   
synthehol will be in violation of regulations and shut down! No obscene   
or morally questionable holoprograms! Anything that does not meet with   
the standards I have set in place will be confiscated and the owners and   
purveyors of such programs will be fined and/or arrested! This is a   
Starfleet installation, not a floating Sodom and Gomorrah! If you don't   
like it you're free to leave and your lease agreements will be dissolved   
with your rent prorated!"

Kira pushed her way to the front of the crowd. "You've gone too far,   
MacKelroy! The businesses were issued Bajoran licenses to operate and   
what they sell and how they sell it falls under *my* purview, not yours!"

The man sneered at her condescendingly. "Since you are such an expert in   
business law, Major, you should know that as the managing occupants of   
this facility Starfleet is ultimately responsible for what goes on here.   
Bajor may technically be their landlord but if I feel that having these   
businesses operate here would leave the Federation and Starfleet open to   
liability issues I have the right and the responsibility to shut every   
damn one of them down." He raised his voice and addressed the crowd.   
"And if you do not disband and return to your shops I will declare this   
an illegal protest and have all of you arrested!"

The crowd roared in outrage as one.

"Bajor for Bajor!" someone shouted. "No more Federation Occupation!"

The crowd took up the chant.

"BAJOR FOR BAJOR! END THE FEDERATION OCCUPATION! BAJOR FOR BAJOR! END   
THE FEDERATION OCCUPATION!"

"Quark!" Jadzia called out, making her way through the crowd, Fig and   
Alvaro following.

"...and what the hell is a 'Sodom and Gomorrah' anyway?" Quark was   
saying to Morn and Leeta angrily.

"I think it's some kind of disease," Leeta said uncertainly.

Quark glared at the departing MacKelroy and at the security detachment   
that was sealing the doors. "I run a clean bar!" he cried.

Morn gave him a dubious look.

"Well--pretty clean," Quark amended, his voice tense with frustration.

"Quark!" Jadzia shouted getting close to him.

"Dax! It's about time you got back! You have to do something about this   
MacKelroy--he shut down the bar! I'm losing money here!" Quark said   
desperately.

"What is all this?" Fig asked stepping up.

"MacKelroy, that's what," Leeta said with a grimace. "First Julian gets   
suspended then this guy comes in and fires everyone in the Infirmary,   
and now this! And--" she added, hitching her thumb in the direction   
MacKelroy and his security detail went off in, "I'm not sure but I think   
he just called me a prostitute!"

"He fired everyone in the Infirmary?" Dax gaped at her. "Why?"

"Morn told us all about it. Ziyal was sick and MacKelroy wouldn't let   
Julian come back on board to treat her so the other doctors had Morn   
bring her down to Bajor. When MacKelroy found out he fired them, right   
Morn?"

Morn nodded.

The crowd began to grow and surge, pushing and shoving against one   
another, their anger building. Leeta led the small group through the   
maze of bodies until they were able to hear one another clearly again.

"This is ridiculous!" Leeta said as the crowd noise rose again. "That   
guy has them to the point where they're going to pull this place apart!"

Morn ducked as an object zoomed by his head.

"What the--" Fig ducked as another projectile crashed on the wall behind   
them.

"Hey! Quark shouted. "Watch the sign!"

Some of the crowd who had apparently taken their drinks out with them   
continued to throw their empty glasses toward the security team. A fight   
broke out during the melee and the air was filled with the sound of   
shouting and fists hitting flesh.

"Jesus! What the hell was that guy thinking?" Alvaro said in disbelief.   
"He starts a freaking riot then just casually walks away?!?"

Dax turned to Fig. "Is he trying to undo everything we've accomplished   
in the last five years? The Bajorans aren't going to stand for this.   
Benjamin--all of us--worked very hard to assure them this station was   
and always would be Bajoran. Saying this is a Starfleet installation is   
a major breech of diplomacy!"

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this right now," Fig's face was grim.   
"Alvaro--"

"I know," He said cutting her off. "I'll go inform your first officer   
about what's happening. Good luck." He said before heading back through   
the crowd towards the airlocks.

Kira approached them as Bajoran security attempted to pacify the crowd.   
"Captain! MacKelroy has been wreaking havoc on this station! Since he's   
arrived all hell has broken loose! Are you going to do something about   
him or is he right and the Federation really is planning on seizing full   
control over Deep Space Nine?" She demanded.

"Major, I am not aware of any such plans. It is not now nor has it ever   
been the Federation's policy to confiscate the property of foreign   
powers at will." She looked at Dax, "Have Starfleet security give Kira   
and her team any assistance they need with crowd control, and afterwards   
round up the senior staff and have them meet me in the wardroom."   
Figueiredo turned back to Kira. "I want to assure you that this station   
is still a Bajoran asset--Starfleet has no intention of walling you or   
your people out."

"That's not what MacKelroy has been saying," Kira spat out angrily.

"One commander does not speak for all of Starfleet, Major. I assure you   
that whatever agenda MacKelroy has been running with ends right now."

 

*******

 

Figueiredo walked into Benjamin Sisko's office and strode over to the   
desk where MacKelroy was sitting.

He looked up, sipped his coffee, and smiled. "I'm sorry, captain, I   
didn't hear you knock."

"For such an expert on Starfleet regulations, MacKelroy, why is it   
you're still sitting on your ass and not saluting your superior   
officer?" Fig asked.

MacKelroy put down his cup and arose from the chair snapping her a quick   
salute. "Ma'am. Now, is there something you needed?"

"An explanation."

"Excuse me?"

"Get the shit out of your ears, MacKelroy, and cut the attitude," she   
said in a tone that would do her old drill sergeant proud. "You don't   
have the pips on your collar or enough ass in your pants to mess with   
me! Starfleet has cultivated a relationship with these people for   
several years now--don't think that I'm going to sit idly by and watch   
you trash that just because someone made you the hall monitor for a   
couple of weeks. Consider yourself relieved of duty."

"I'm sorry Captain, but you can't do that." MacKelroy said in a casual   
tone. "Admiral Ross gave me my orders and I intend to follow them through."

Figueiredo smiled, a slow shark-like grin. "You challenging me,   
MacKelroy? Oh please, keep going. I'm curious to see how deep the hole   
you're digging yourself into is going to get."

"I have my orders, Captain. You may outrank me, but you don't outrank   
Admiral Ross. You pull me off duty and you'll have to deal with him."

"That so?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Am I shaking in my boots yet, Commander?" She asked in an icy tone.

"I wouldn't presume to know, ma'am," MacKelroy said easily.

"Then let me clarify it for you: I don't give a good goddamn who's at   
the end of your leash, MacKelroy! Get out from behind Ben Sisko's desk,   
grab your gear, and get the hell out of here." Her tone was deadly.

"You're making a mistake...captain," MacKelroy said with a tight smile,   
his eyes glinting with anger as he drew himself up to his full height   
and stared down his nose at her.

"You want to go toe to toe, MacKelroy?" Figueiredo asked calmly, holding   
her ground. "I've taken on bigger and badder than you. Now, you can   
leave here in one of two ways; on foot or in a body bag. You decide."

MacKelroy chuckled and relaxed then picked up his coffee cup and headed   
to the door. He turned as the doors opened and lifted his cup. "Have a   
nice day, Captain. I'd salute, but my hands are full."

Figueiredo didn't respond, she just stood and watched him leave. When   
the doors closed she went behind Sisko's desk and sat in his chair.   
Looking at the desk she noticed something was off. She looked around   
then picked up the small wastepaper basket and looked inside.

"Asshole," she said pulling the baseball out of the trash and putting it   
back in its holder. She touched the comm monitor and waited for it to   
connect.

//Gilhouley.//

"I catch you at a bad time, boss?"

Admiral Fitz Gilhouley pulled the napkin out of his collar and shrugged.   
//Just catching some dinner at my desk. What's up, Fig? How are things   
in Ben's neck of the woods?//

"Not good."

Gilhouley frowned. //Hadar activity? You need to call in the cavalry?//

"It's not the Dominion--this time anyway. Ross put some commander with   
more bulk than brains in charge during Sisko's absence and now he's got   
the locals holding protests in the Promenade because he's been busting   
heads and insisting this is no longer a Bajoran station."

//What?// Gilhouley asked with a scowl. //What's this Commander's major   
malfunction?//

"He's got his head up his ass is all I know. He even had the balls to   
threaten me with a smile on his face."

//He still breathing?//

"For now."

Gilhouley paused. //What's this stain's name?//

"MacKelroy."

//MacKelroy, MacKelroy...// Gilhouley stopped. //Mitch MacKelroy?//

She shrugged, "We didn't get that personal."

//Big mother, looks like a linebacker?//

"That's him."

//Son of a bitch.// Gilhouley said, pushing his plate away. //He sent in   
his bull.//

"His what?"

//His bull.// Gilhouley scowled. //The guy he sends in to bust up the   
china shop. MacKelroy is his favorite asshole. He goes in and alienates   
the other officers, busts balls, issues transfers, and does it all by   
staying just inside the regulations so they can't do a damn thing about   
it. His job is to basically clean house so his superiors can bring in a   
new team more in line with their way of thinking.//

"Ross wants to get rid of Sisko and his team?" Fig asked. "After   
everything they've done out here?"

//That's the point of sending in a bull. You have a crew that is   
untouchable but you want them out, you get them to leave under their own   
steam. No muss, no fuss.// Gilhouley sighed, //I have to say though,   
this has been coming for a while. No one at Headquarters was thrilled   
with this 'Emissary' bullshit, but Ben got results so he was left alone.   
Ross must have seen the Dominion thing as his opportunity to remedy that.//

"Well, his boy fucked up big time!" Fig chuckled darkly. "This station   
is on the verge of being torn apart, he's got the Bajoran militia   
frothing at the mouth, and he's probably got the Provisional Government   
thinking that the Federation is fixing to start another Occupation! As   
for our own people, low morale is an understatement--he fired the entire   
medical staff just to do it for fuck's sake!"

//What?//

"One of Quark's waitresses, Leeta I think her name was, told us when we   
got back from maneuvers. The whole team, Fitz!"

//That doesn't make sense,// Gilhouley said with a frown.

"None of this makes sense. And get this: he said it was under direct   
orders from Ross." She shook her head. "Since when do Starfleet Admirals   
issue orders to have its officers shit where they eat? To say this has   
been a breech of diplomacy is an understatement!"

//You sure it's gone that far?//

"He started a goddamn riot in front of Quarks then casually walked away   
to get himself a cup of coffee. The ranking Bajoran Militia officer was   
so pissed she was practically spitting nails and demanded to know from   
me what Starfleet's intentions were in regard to MacKelroy's claim that   
Bajor no longer had a claim on DS9! Am I sure this is a fuck up?   
Admiral, 'fuck up' is an understatement."

Gilhouley's face darkened with anger. //Did you relieve him or arrest him?//

"I relieved him, and when I did he took great delight in telling me that   
it would be a 'bad idea on my part' because his big daddy Ross had plans   
and I shouldn't interfere."

//I'm going to comm Ross and find out what the fuck is going on. You sit   
tight and monitor the situation. If we have to we'll send a team of   
diplomats down to smooth things out.//

"You could send in the entire Diplomatic Corps, but it may already be   
too late. You didn't see that crowd--it was ugly. They're shouting,   
'Bajor for Bajor' and 'End the Federation Occupation'." She shook her   
head. "Fitz, Bajorans don't use words like 'Occupation' casually."

//Fuck. It's days like this that make me want to go back to commanding   
the shipyards,// He sighed. //You are in charge of Deep Space Nine until   
further notice. Get the senior staff together and sort out what's been   
going on and have MacKelroy confined to quarters--under our security   
team's watch. The Bajorans might just have him 'accidentally' slip in   
the shower if things are really that bad. We don't need him fragged on   
top of everything else.//

"I'm on it."

//I'm calling Headquarters and getting to the bottom of this. If   
MacKelroy is telling the truth then Ross overstepped his authority big   
time. He'll be lucky to get out of this with just a forced retirement.//

"Why do it then?" She asked. "I don't get it; why go this far just to   
squeeze out Ben and his team?"

//It may not have been Ross. His boy may have had a major brain fart and   
took it too far--and I'm willing to bet that's what his story is going   
to be. Just hang tight and I'll get back to you in a couple of hours.//

"Will do," she said, "Oh, and Admiral?"

//Yes?// He asked.

"Just out of curiosity, who's your bull?"

//Who do you think?// Gilhouley smiled just before the screen went dark.

Fig slapped her comm badge. "Figueiredo to Starfleet Security; have   
Commander MacKelroy detained and confined to quarters under my orders."

//Yes, sir.//

She got up from her chair and headed for the wardroom. Kira, Dax, and   
O'Brien were already there. Odo was notably absent so she assumed he was   
still on crowd control. She had gotten no more than two steps before   
Kira launched a verbal attack.

"First Minister Shakaar has been informed of what happened here,   
Captain. Bajor has no intention of rolling over and letting Starfleet   
just take over!"

"Sit down, Major." Figueiredo ordered. "No one is seizing anything.   
MacKelroy is in Starfleet custody and will face disciplinary action. His   
actions were not condoned by Starfleet, I assure you."

"He sure as hell acted like they were!" She spat.

"Please," Fig said evenly. "If you will just sit down we can all try to   
sort through this mess. I've only been here all of fifteen minutes and I   
still don't know exactly what's going on."

"I'll tell you what's going on, Captain--your commander has managed to   
turn this station upside down in less than three days!" Kira said angrily.

"First off, he's not 'my' commander and, like I said, he acted under no   
one's authority."

"Excuse me, Captain, but he said Admiral Ross sent him in," O'Brien   
interjected.

"Admiral Gilhouley is sorting that out even as we speak." Figueiredo   
said evenly. "I have ordered that Commander MacKelroy be confined to   
quarters and am assuming command until Captain Sisko returns."

"I'm sorry, captain." Kira shook her head, "I think that having another   
outsider from Starfleet come in to assume command is a bad idea. Right   
now, the Bajorans on this station are in an uproar. I need to be in   
command and you and your ship need to take a step back and let us handle   
this ourselves."

Fig eyed Kira carefully before speaking. This was a tense situation that   
called for the highest level of tact and diplomacy. "You may be right,   
Major. I will, of course, defer to you in regards to the running of the   
station and its staff, but I think I should stay on board until this is   
resolved."

"With all due respect, Captain, right now the only Starfleet captain who   
can fix this is Benjamin Sisko and even that is iffy. MacKelroy broke   
the trust of the Provisional Government and the Militia when he started   
in on how Starfleet was done waiting on us 'yokels' to 'piss or get off   
the pot'. I can't speak for First Minister Shakaar, but I would be very   
uncomfortable with the idea of yet another officer coming in to assume   
Sisko's chair, however temporary that would be."

"What do you want me to do, Major?" Fig asked.

"Leave part of your medical team to man the Infirmary until we can get   
our people up from Bajor, then patrol the sector. We will keep you   
informed of any developments here, but you need to leave and take   
MacKelroy with you."

"Kira," Dax began, "Captain Figueiredo--"

"I am not saying this to insult the captain nor am I suggesting that   
Starfleet personnel completely abandon the station," Kira said cutting   
her off. "I'm saying I think that we need to allow the discordance   
caused by the commander to dissipate before we start introducing anyone   
else to the crew or the inhabitants. I don't feel that is unreasonable   
and if you do," she looked at the captain, "I apologize for that but I'm   
afraid I must insist."

Figueiredo thought about that. Gilhouley might not be happy with her for   
leaving the command seat vacant, but the only other choice would be to   
challenge the major and risk escalating an already tense situation.   
"Very well. If you think that's best, I will gladly bow to your   
judgment, Major."

Kira nodded appearing somewhat mollified. "As soon as your medical team   
disembarks I'll meet with the Merchant's Association and the civilian   
leadership and explain the situation."

"What about Dr. Bashir?" Miles asked.

"Dr. Bashir?" Fig asked. "Someone said he was suspended?"

O'Brien nodded. "Right before Captain Sisko left, Admiral Ross ordered   
that Dr. Bashir be suspended for six months based on the Founder   
infiltration and then his genetic enhancements being revealed."

"I thought they resolved that weeks ago?" Dax asked, confused.

Figueiredo raised her hand, "Look, I don't know anything about that and   
I can't countermand Ross' decision just because I want to. I'll talk to   
Admiral Gilhouley and see what he can do." She turned her gaze to Kira.   
"Major, on behalf of Starfleet I apologize for what happened here and I   
assure you we will do everything we can to make this right. I'm sure   
that Headquarters will be sending a diplomatic team to smooth things out   
with your government very soon and I hope that we can continue to work   
together until this is fully resolved." She rose from her chair and held   
out her hand.

Kira clasped her hand, "Thank you, Captain."

Fig nodded. "If it would be all right I'd like to have MacKelroy beamed   
directly onto my ship so as not to further incense the crowd."

"I think that would be for the best," Kira agreed.

"I'll comm you as soon as I hear from the Admiral."

 

******

 

As soon as Fig got back to the Venture and made sure MacKelroy was safe   
and snug and confined to quarters, she went to her ready room and commed   
Gilhouley.

//What are you doing back on the Venture?// was the first thing out of   
his mouth.

"I had no choice, Admiral. I could either step aside and let Major Kira   
run the show or piss fuel on the fire. She wanted me gone so I went."   
Fig explained evenly.

//This is turning into a real goddamn shit-fit.// The Admiral shook his   
head. //Where's MacKelroy?//

"On the Venture, confined to quarters."

//Good.//

"What did Ross have to say?"

Gilhouley grimaced. //MacKelroy must have commed him the second the   
Venture docked because as soon as I got off the line with you I had   
Admiral Levine telling me that Ross filed a grievance against me for   
pissing in his punchbowl! Fucking political bullshit--this is why I stay   
in the field. Something is going on and I am out of the loop. Ross is   
going on the offensive. He says I overstepped my bounds by removing   
MacKelroy from his post and that if any of the commander's actions were   
'misconstrued' by the locals, his offices should have been informed of   
the situation before I sent you to step in.//

"You didn't send me, I stepped in it the minute I ran into a mob of   
angry Bajorans!"

//I don't know what the hell is going on. Ross has an agenda but damned   
if I can figure it out! It's important enough to him that he's   
apparently willing to go the distance.//

"What about MacKelroy?"

//He wants him reinstated and you disciplined for interfering.//

Fig raised her eyebrow, "Oh yeah? And what did you say?"

//When Levine told me that I said that Ross could kiss my ass. I gave   
the order to have him removed before the situation escalated and if he   
wanted to call me to the carpet then I'd be more than willing to defend   
my decision in front of the whole goddamn senate and the President of   
the Federation if need be.// His face darkened in annoyance.

"So now what?"

//Keep an eye on the situation and keep me informed. I have to meet with   
the goddamn oversight committee and I've filed a responding grievance   
against Ross defending my decision and requesting an investigation in   
the matter--more bullshit to wade through. Make a full report and send   
it in so I can show the panel and I'll try to get through to Ben and try   
to straighten this thing out on this end.//

"Can you get to him?" She asked, "I mean, isn't the Peace Summit   
sequestered?"

//I've got an in with some of Nechayev's people.// Gilhouley sighed.   
//It's up to her, but if I stress that the diplomatic situation here is   
destabilizing she may cut him loose, we'll see. I wouldn't count on it   
though. Ross couldn't have picked a worse time to have a goddamn midlife   
crisis or breakdown or whatever the fuck this is! Your Major Kira also   
informed First Minister Shakaar of what was going on there and   
apparently after he met with MacKelroy a couple of days ago he requested   
a 'clarification of intent' from HQ.//

"And no one took that as a sign something was up down here?" She asked   
incredulously.

//Supposedly the communiqué got lost in the shuffle. Until I started   
poking my nose into this shit pile no one even looked at it. Fucking   
weird ass voodoo going on over there! Levine said he didn't have all the   
details but you were right; the Provisional Government is not happy.//

"An understatement if Kira's reaction is anything to go by."

//It's not going to be all cut and dried when it gets to the committee   
though. Ross may have some leverage.// Gilhouley sighed. //The Dominion   
has changed the all the rules as far as a lot of the higher ups are   
concerned. Bajor has been stringing the Federation along for a while on   
whether or not they intend to join us. We keep defending it and spending   
our assets down there and a lot of the bean counters and war hawks feel   
they aren't seeing a significant return. There has been talk about   
either developing a shield of some sort limiting access into the Alpha   
Quadrant through the wormhole or destabilizing it altogether.//

"If they do that the Bajorans will raise all holy hell, Admiral. The   
wormhole aliens--"

//I know, believe me. And for now it's just talk, but it's getting   
popular now that the Cardassians are looking to make a treaty with the   
Dominion.//

"That official or just a rumor because I thought the Legate Prime   
denounced Dukat over that."

//Things can change, especially when it comes to Cardassian politics.   
Intelligence says that there is a growing dissention over the Legate's   
decision and Dukat's plan is beginning to look mighty good to a few of   
them. Somebody is sending out feelers to see how sweet the deal would   
be.// He rubbed his neck tiredly. //Look, the Federation is between a   
rock and a hard place right now. We will do everything we can, as long   
as the Dominion stays put, to keep the wormhole safe for the Bajorans.   
But, if the Cardassians sign that treaty it will open up a path for the   
Dominion and we can't allow that. The greater good, Figueiredo; no one   
would benefit from an all out war with the Dominion--not us or the   
Bajorans, and the few skirmishes we've encountered up till now are   
nothing compared to what we'll see if they decide to come at us in full   
force.//

"So was that the point of sending in MacKelroy? Clean house so Ross can   
send in a crew who would be more willing to destroy the wormhole if it   
came to it?" Fig asked with a frown.

//I'm guessing.//

She sighed. "I'll...do what I can here."

//Just keep Major Kira and First Minister Shakaar happy but stay close.   
Keep one eye on the wormhole and the other one on the station.//

"Will do."

 

******

Julian blinked as he pushed his chair away from the microscope and   
rubbed the back of his neck. He'd spent the last three hours trying to   
figure out how, or perhaps why, the virus he was studying was mutating   
so quickly, but he'd had little success. The rate of mutation was far   
too high for the pathogen to be natural, but he simply couldn't figure   
out exactly how it had been engineered.

Time for a break, he told himself: tired eyes don't see what's in front   
of them. He rose to his feet and crossed to the window, looking out at   
the monks and children. A female monk, Prylar Naia if Julian recalled   
correctly, was feeding a clutch of fowl off near the compound's   
perimeter, while an acolyte at a nearby table was showing a group of   
older children how to seed the aguaba fruit that went into the   
monastery's fine wines and liqueurs. Near the schoolroom, Garak was   
scratching the head of a large animal that looked like a cross between   
an Irish Wolfhound and an iguana. It was a Cardassian riding hound,   
Julian realized, and a young one at that.

Okuna suddenly tapped him on the shoulder. "Here you go," he said,   
handing him a PADD.

He skimmed the first page. "Is this all we need?" he asked.

"We could put a state-of-the-art hospital on the list," Okuna said with   
a shrug, "but I doubt we'd actually get it. Or would we? How rich is   
this Krath guy anyway?"

"He's not your personal Satin Cloves, Okuna," Girani scoffed as she   
entered the room with Perreira.

Perreira and Okuna both frowned at her. "Who?"

"The fat hairy man you people worship and give presents to," Girani said   
dismissively. "The one that has the jelly in his stomach."

"*Santa Claus*," Okuna said with a roll of his eyes. "And I didn't think   
he was: it was just wishful thinking."

Perreira snorted. "Really wishful thinking," he said under his breath as   
he opened the shelf above the sink and pulled out a bottle of detergent.   
"If you think this-"

Julian interrupted him. "I'll be in the meeting with Minister Krath, and   
I'll make sure we get everything we absolutely need. Perreira, did you   
move your gear into our cabin?"

"Sure did, doc."

"Fine," he said. "Girani, you're taking tonight's shift with Ziyal so   
Minister Krath can bunk down in that cabin. I'll meet you back here with   
the Minister as soon as he arrives."

Perreira took a look at the PADD, craning his neck to read it over   
Julian's shoulder as he carried a load of towels across the room. "If   
you're asking for all that, you might as well ask Santa Claus." He   
suddenly began to sing. "I'll have a bluuue Christmas without youuu..."

"Would you please be quiet!" Girani grouched.

"I'll just-" Julian began.

Perreira began to dance around Girani. "...I'll be so bluuue just   
thinking about youuu..."

Okuna rolled his eyes.

Julian tried again. "I'm going to-"

But Perreira wasn't finished. "...decoraaations of red on a greeen-"

"SHUT UP!" Girani bellowed.

Perreira put the clothes basket down and gave the furious Girani a   
sardonic grin. "You, Mirat, are the biggest grinch on Bajor."

Her eyes suddenly turned an icy blue. "What did you call me?" she   
demanded. "Did you just compare me to Okuna's underpants, Perreira?"

"If you'd-"

"That's gonch, not grinch, Girani," Okuna retorted.

As his team ignored him in favor of their petty bickering, Julian rolled   
his eyes. "Oh, to hell with it." There wasn't much else they could do   
tonight and they needed to blow off a little steam. It may be their last   
chance, he thought as he left the infirmary, their voices trailing   
behind him.

"That's a beautiful animal," he said to Garak as he reached the pen.   
"Where did they find a Cardassian riding hound on Bajor, and a sighted   
one at that?"

Garak turned his head slightly, acknowledging his presence with a polite   
nod. "He was found on a wildlife preserve in the mountains half-starved   
and with a serious infection. He was moved here for treatment. A Gul   
stationed on the planet surface brought him in before the Occupation ended."

"He doesn't look like he's starving now," Julian said with a smile as he   
eyed the hound's bulging stomach.

"The children are constantly feeding him their snacks." Garak replied in   
a dry tone.

The hound looked up at Julian, then walked over and sniffed his hand   
loudly. Julian chuckled and patted the large reptilian canine on the   
snout. "Sorry boy, no food." The hound licked his palm once, then walked   
away and plopped down on some straw bedding. "He seems friendly."

"He appears to have a docile nature," Garak said. "Some of that probably   
has to do with the fact that Reven had him neutered when he first   
arrived to keep down his aggression. Even before that, though, he seemed   
fairly tame."

Julian frowned at him. "How long has he been here?"

"Do you have the list, doctor?" Garak asked.

"Uh, yes," he replied, slightly caught off guard by the sudden gruffness   
to Garak's tone. He handed him the PADD. "The neuroscanner and the   
electron microscope are the only absolutes. Everything else is   
negotiable for now."

Garak read over the list quickly. "I doubt there will be a problem, but   
if there is I may be able to go through some of my other contacts to   
purchase what we need."

Julian raised his eyebrow in surprise. "Some of the equipment we need is   
extremely expensive."

"I still have money from the sale of my shop and a bit more hidden   
away," Garak said vaguely as he added a few notes of his own to Okuna's   
list.

"Not many bills in a monastery, I suppose."

"Not many, no."

"I guess that's one good thing about living here," he said, looking   
around. "Not many frills either."

Garak cut his eyes toward him. "Too rustic for your tastes, doctor?"

"No." Julian hastened to assure him. "I didn't mean to imply that at   
all. In fact, I wouldn't mind working someplace like this myself one   
day, maybe after I leave the service."

"You as a simple country doctor," Garak said, disbelief coloring his   
expression. "The son of - what was it? - Ambassador Bashir and his   
wealthy wife?"

Julian snorted. "'Ambassador Bashir' was one of my father's finest   
creations. The only thing he was ever an ambassador to was the Turf." He   
looked down at the PADD in Garak's hands. "My father," he finally said,   
"is a liar, a con artist, a gambler, and a complete failure as a husband   
and a father. I've spent most of my life trying to put him behind me,   
but no matter how many light-years separate us his shadow's still there,   
somewhere behind me. I can never seem to get away from it."

"I didn't realize," Garak said, his expression unreadable.

"This 'rustic' place," Julian continued, waving his hand, "seems like a   
palace compared to some of the places we lived in when I was young." He   
raised his eyes to meet Garak's. "You know about Adigeon Prime?"

"Yes."

"That's where they made me into Julian Bashir," he said. "At least on   
the outside: Julian is the lie I've led, the mask I show people.   
Adigeon..." he said with a sigh. "My parents were never wealthy even   
when I was younger - Mum married the chauffeur's son and Grandfather   
disowned her - but Father financed my transformation through gambling.   
He borrowed money from loan sharks and bet it all, and won." He chuckled   
darkly. "The only time he ever did win. At any rate, after we returned,   
Dad, being Dad, reneged on the loans. We ended up being stalked by some   
pretty violent types, and a few times we were forced to go to ground.   
Shabby one-room tenements, caves...we once spent almost three months   
living on wild roots and mushrooms. A girl died right in front of us   
because we didn't know how to treat her. Turned out all she needed were   
some herbs that were growing just outside of the mouth of the cave."

"So the Federation's acclaimed social safety net failed you?" Garak   
asked. "I find that difficult to believe."

"It's easy to fall between the cracks," Julian replied. "And Father had   
warrants out for his arrest, so he wasn't especially keen on attracting   
attention. If I'd known about that herb...well, that's one of the main   
reasons I decided to become a doctor. I never wanted to feel that   
helpless again." He glanced over at Garak; the Cardassian was staring at   
him with an odd look on his face. "What?"

"It's...nothing," Garak said, turning away.

"Ask, Garak," Julian said dryly. "May as well, it's not like any of this   
is a secret anymore. After Zimmerman's revelation, all of this is   
probably in a file somewhere."

"True, but..."

"Cardassian etiquette?" Julian supplied. He caught Garak's look as the   
other man examined him from the corner of his eye. "We're a little past   
keeping to polite conversation, aren't we?"

Garak shrugged. "Very well, as long as you don't expect quid pro quo,   
doctor."

"From you? I learned a long time ago that trying to pry information out   
of you is futile. After a while asking became a game, nothing more."   
Julian chuckled.

Garak paused, as if considering his words carefully. "When I first met   
you, you seemed so open," he said. "So naive. You were the last person   
I'd suspect of holding secrets, or being able to hold them. I still   
don't understand why you took the risk of joining Starfleet."

"That's another story," Julian said, pushing away the surprise he felt   
at Garak's admission. "After the cave incident, Mother told us she'd   
finally had enough and she commed Grandfather. He paid off Father's   
debts and gave us a home, but he never let me forget who was holding the   
purse strings. That's why I made the decision to join Starfleet; so I   
could wake up every morning knowing that I don't owe anyone a damn thing."

"I see," Garak said as he latched the riding hound's pen. He suddenly   
turned back to Julian. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because the other night you said that you didn't know who I was, and   
you were right."

"I was," Garak said doubtfully.

Julian nodded. "This," and he gestured towards himself, "this is me.   
Jules Bashir. The real man: no lies, no veneer. And *that* is why I   
couldn't understand how you could ever confuse me with the Founder: he   
was just a lie impersonating another lie. I forgot that you-"

They both turned their heads as a loud sound interrupted them. "That   
will be Krath Milnar's shuttle," Garak said. "Are you coming, doctor?"

"Of course." Julian said feeling disappointment pool in his belly. For a   
minute he thought that maybe they had been getting close to something.   
It wasn't yet the friendship they'd once shared, but their conversation   
had at least been civil. "Focus on the job," he muttered to himself.

Thinking about anything personal at this point was probably too   
distracting anyway. Besides, he already knew how to be a doctor; being   
himself was much harder. Right now he didn't have time to try.

Julian shook himself out of his reverie and followed Garak to the shuttle.

Krath Milnar disembarked his craft carrying a large duffel. He extended   
his hand in greeting. "Brother Elim."

"Minister Krath," Garak said with a polite nod, accepting his handshake.   
He turned slightly toward Julian. "Minister, this is Dr. Julian Bashir."

"Minister Krath," Julian said, extending a hand as well.

Krath stared at him for a second before clasping his hand. "Forgive me,   
doctor. I thought I had prepared myself for our meeting, but..."

"The Founder?" Julian supplied. "Not to worry, minister. I get that a   
lot these days."

"I imagine you do. It's quite uncanny..." He shook his head. "I'm being   
extremely rude, I apologize."

"If you didn't have a reaction I'd be worried, Minister," Julian said   
with a polite smile.

"That's true." Krath said. He looked between the two men hitching his   
bag a little higher on his shoulder. "I suppose you should show me where   
I'm to bunk down tonight first then we'll go over what you need."

As Julian followed the two men to the guest cabins, he examined Krath   
surreptitiously. He'd seen Krath before, of course, but only in news   
broadcasts on the HV. Tall and dark haired, with slightly rugged   
features that made him look less like a slick politician and more like a   
blue-collar everyman, Krath automatically seemed to set you at ease. His   
serious and calm way of speaking exuded confidence without seeming   
arrogant.

Julian half listened to his and Garak's conversation as the Deputy   
Minister put away his bag. Krath maintained eye contact with the   
Cardassian, asked his questions directly with no dissemblance, and   
always went right to the point. It was no wonder the man had come so   
close to defeating Shakaar in the election; he exuded a charisma that   
was nothing like the seductive charm Shakaar employed. Krath reminded   
him of Chief O'Brien in that regard. He was the kind of man who only   
spoke when he had something real to say; an exceedingly rare quality in   
a politician.

"I cleared my calendar as Brother Elim mentioned that by coming here I   
would be placed under quarantine with the rest of you." Krath said to   
Julian, bringing him out of his reverie.

"Yes. About that, Minister; would you mind if I took some samples from   
you and ran a few tests before we get started? I need to establish a   
baseline from someone of Bajoran heritage who isn't infected."

"Not at all." Krath said with a nod. "I'm past due for a physical anyway."

They went to the Infirmary, where Krath was introduced to the team;   
Julian then scanned him with the infirmary's tricorder. He couldn't stop   
a slight shiver from running up his spine.

Girani stepped up to him and asked in a low tone, "What is it?"

Julian looked first at her and then at Krath. "I'm afraid we won't be   
able to use these readings as a baseline after all, sir.".

Krath looked at him in confusion while Okuna and Perreira took a step   
forward in surprise. "Why not?" he asked.

Julian's face was grim. "I'm afraid you've already been infected."

Krath stared at him. "But I just got here."

"I know, sir. May I take a blood sample?"

Krath nodded and rolled up his sleeve as Perreira handed Julian a slide   
and aspirator. As soon as he had the sample, Julian placed it under the   
microscope and isolated the virus, then pulled the images of Ziyal's and   
Danna's samples as well for comparison.

His gaze moved between the samples, and for just a moment he refused to   
accept what he was seeing. "Dr. Girani, Dr. Okuna," he finally said as   
he transferred the microscope's visual output to the main monitor,   
"could I get your opinions on this?"

"What do you-" Girani started, then her eyes narrowed as she took in the   
three virions. "Prophets," she murmured.

Okuna turned to him. "But-"

Julian cleared his throat and turned back to Krath. "Minister, have you   
ever been to the monastery before?"

"No."

"Have you met with anyone who has had contact with this monastery in the   
last three months?"

"I have spoken with Vedek Merel recently; I assume she's been here." His   
eyes suddenly grew wide as he looked up at Julian. "Is there something   
wrong?" he asked, his gaze flickering anxiously between the doctors' faces.

"Your sample shows that your virus is as advanced as Brother Danna's,   
which means that you've been infected for at least two to three months,"   
Julian said. "Have you experienced any fevers? Night sweats? Any unusual   
symptoms at all?"

"I've been a bit off," Krath said. "Allergies and the like. I haven't   
been eating well, but with my schedule that's not unusual."

Okuna typed a command into the microscope's control panel, a concerned   
frown on his face. "If Minister Krath is infected," he said, "then that   
means..."

"It means this thing has already spread well beyond the monastery,"   
Julian finished for him.

"This is a live virus," Girani said, looking at Krath's sample. "All the   
other Bajorans had the antibodies but not the virus."

"Minister," Julian said, swiveling his chair toward him, "your   
symptoms--are they recent, on and off, or what?"

Krath frowned. "On and off. I was down one weekend with a migraine about   
two months ago then I got over it. I don't really have time to be sick   
so I either just go for a hypospray when I get sick or I just muddle   
through the best I can."

 

"I feel fine," Krath said with a shrug. "I'm a bit tired but it's been a   
long day."

Perreira re-scanned him with the tricorder. "Blood pressure is normal,   
blood oxidation is normal--no sign of metabolic acidosis despite the   
virus being present in his bloodstream."

"Is that good or bad?" Krath asked.

Julian looked at him. "Honestly, Minister, we don't know. All we know is   
that this virus spreads incredibly easily and it affects the hybrid   
population differently than it does full-blooded Bajorans."

"I meet with members of the Bajoran clergy all the time," he said. "I   
addressed a meeting just last week with the whole of the Bajoran   
Ministry present. There were representatives from the court system,   
Bajoran Family Services--these are people who have contact with hybrid   
Bajoran children every day. You're telling me I may have spread this on   
to thousands of people?"

Garak spoke up from his place near the door. "Minister, we don't know   
enough yet to assume anything. We need to approach this rationally and   
with a great deal of caution. Assuming the worst will accomplish   
nothing. We have only one case that we know is advanced thus far. One   
case does not make for a global pandemic. All of the other infected,   
yourself included, are only experiencing mild symptoms."

"What do we do then?" Krath asked after a second's pause.

"First things first," Garak said. "We need to get the proper equipment   
to allow the doctors to see this virus and how it works more clearly.   
Until then we can't really know anything."

"I agree. What about the quarantine? Is there still any point to it   
now?" Krath asked.

"Let's just do as Garak suggested and deal with this one step at a   
time," Julian answered. "For now we'll continue to do as we have done.   
Here's the list of what we'll need." He handed Krath the PADD. "The   
neuroscanner and the electron microscope are the most important items on   
the list. If you could just get us those, we can make do and figure out   
the rest."

Krath looked it over quickly. "There won't be a problem, doctor. You'll   
get everything on the list. Some of these things I already have access   
to. I'll send this list to my assistant and we should have most of it by   
tomorrow."

"That fast?" Okuna asked, surprised.

"Money has a way of getting things done, Dr. Okuna. I've been thinking   
about diversifying into medical technologies for the last year or two. I   
have a business associate who has been suggesting a merger between our   
companies for some time now. He'll have most if not all of what is on   
your list." Krath turned to Julian. "I plan on keeping the First   
Minister informed about everything we're doing here. When it's prudent   
to do so we will get the Ministry of Health involved, but until you know   
more about what this is Shakaar would prefer not to alarm the general   
public."

"We know enough to know that this is a potential health crisis,   
Minister," Girani objected. "I work for the Ministry of Health. I agree   
that we don't know a lot, but we've garnered enough information to at   
the very least send a general alert out to all clinics and hospitals to   
be on the lookout for patients exhibiting these symptoms. We could get a   
better idea of how widespread this is."

Krath turned to her. "The recent attempt made by the Founders to destroy   
Bajor has already caused a great deal of unrest. Then there's the recent   
tensions on Deep Space Nine and now this..." Krath sighed. "I'll be   
honest with you; I agree that on the surface issuing an alert would seem   
prudent, but there is a growing sentiment within the conservative   
movement that Starfleet is to blame for much of what has happened. I'm   
afraid this may tip the scales if we act without having all the evidence   
and this virus turns out to be completely harmless. As you said you have   
only one patient you consider critical at this point. If we cause a   
public panic...that isn't something you can just take back."

"I agree," Garak said. "If you would like to use the comm system in the   
guest cabin or the comm here to contact your associate...?"

"Thank you. I don't want to disturb the doctor's work and I'm rather   
tired so I'll just retire to my quarters. I'm still on Dakhur time so   
it's the middle of the night for me. I'll see you all in the morning."

As soon as he was gone, Girani spoke up. "I don't like the idea of the   
public safety being compromised for the sake of politics. We should, at   
the very least, get in touch with all the other monasteries and   
orphanages with hybrid children."

"Vedek Merel is making discreet inquiries, I'm sure," Garak said.   
"Minister Krath was correct when he suggested we keep this between us,   
at least for the moment. You all may have terminated your relationship   
with Starfleet but if we issue an alert and the virus is not serious, as   
he said, all the public will see is a group of Starfleet physicians   
trying to cause another panic. It will seem to many as though Starfleet   
is trying to scare Bajor into joining the Federation of Planets by   
concocting crisis after crisis."

"Like the boy who cried wolf," Julian said. "We're getting the equipment   
tomorrow--hopefully. As soon as the neuroscanner gets here I want to   
have Ziyal brought to the infirmary followed by Danna and Krath. I want   
to compare their readings again. Tonight...let's just eat then go to bed."

"Uh, doc?" Perreira held up his hand. "About that. The couch in your   
cabin is kind of small and none of us here are exactly short; is there a   
cot or something we can move in?"

"You take my bed, Perreira," Julian said. "I'll sleep in here tonight."

"You sure?" he asked. "I can bed down here; it's no big deal."

"I never had a chance to really unpack so I was able to move my bags in   
here earlier. There's a cot and a shower, I'll be fine."

"I'm not going to say no," Perreira said. "I was afraid I'd wind up on   
the floor."

Girani scoffed. "You are such a girl, Perreira! When I was with the   
Resistance sleeping on a clean floor would have been paradise!"

He affected an exaggerated lisp. "We can't all be as butch as you, darling."

"I am this close to kicking your ass," Girani told him, holding her   
thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.

"Well, I'm hungry so I'm going to dinner," Okuna said as he headed for   
the door. "Let me know later who won the cage match."

Perreira scooted away from Girani. "Wait for me!" he cried, following   
Okuna out of the infirmary.

She rolled her eyes and turned to Julian. "I'm going to check on Ziyal   
after dinner, then bed down in their cabin. Don't skip supper then spend   
all night on the microscope. You have to be fresh for when the rest of   
the equipment gets here."

"Go eat, Girani. As soon as I've recorded this data, I'll head for the   
dining hall, I promise."

"I'll see you over there then," she said as she headed for the door.   
"Garak."

"Doctor," Garak said to her with a little nod. After she left, he turned   
back to Julian. "Is there anything else you think we'll need?"

"Probably a lot of things, but until we get a good look at this virus, I   
can't know."

"Of course." Garak said, turning away. "Good night, doctor."

"Garak."

The Cardassian turned back to look at him inquiringly.

"I didn't get to finish what I was saying earlier."

"Doctor..."

"Garak, please," Julian interrupted. "I just--I want to apologize."

"Apologize?" the Cardassian said with a frown.

"That was what I was going to tell you earlier. I was going to apologize   
to you for the fact that I was so focused on what I was feeling and what   
I had lost that I forgot to take responsibility for my part in all of   
this. My lie gave the Founder the 'in' it needed to infiltrate the   
station so successfully." He got up from his chair and approached the   
other man carefully. "Did you ever wonder why I was so fascinated by you   
when I first arrived to Deep Space Nine?"

"The numerous spy holonovels were a bit of a hint," Garak said dryly.

"That was just harmless fun, a diversion. I'm talking about why it is I   
kept wandering into your space, why I continued to go to our lunches and   
read terrible Cardassian literature."

"I thought you rather enjoyed some of the books I suggested," Garak said   
with a frown.

Julian held back a snort. "Garak, there is no entertainment value in   
reading novel after novel about sacrifice, death, and servitude to the   
State."

"I think that's a matter of opinion..."

"Damn it, you can be so frustrating," Julian muttered. "The thing I am   
trying to say, and not very well apparently, is that the reason you   
fascinated me was because I thought we were...the same. In a way."

Garak looked at him, obviously confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"On the surface, we have nothing in common, but if you looked   
underneath--Garak, you were the only Cardassian on the station, you were   
a man with secrets, exiled from everything you once were. You couldn't   
have known this then, but being with you comforted me because it meant   
that *I* wasn't alone any more."

"You may not have felt alone, doctor. I, however, did," Garak replied.

"You have no idea how many times I wished I could tell someone, Garak.   
When I found out that you knew the whole time--" Julian shook his head.   
"Let's just say that I understand how angry you are right now, and that   
is why I'm apologizing." He met the other man's gaze. "I was afraid that   
if I let anyone too close, especially you, that the house of cards I had   
built would come tumbling around my ears. So, I hid. I ran and I pushed   
you away then pulled you back in when I needed comfort. I was extremely   
selfish, even then I knew I was being selfish, but I kept making excuse   
after excuse to justify my behavior toward you. As much as I hate to   
admit it, I have a lot of my father in me. If I had known what the   
consequences of my hiding the truth were, I would never have put   
you--put any of us through this."

Garak averted his eyes for a moment then said, "And I owe you an apology   
as well then. As you once said, your only crime was that you survived.   
The Founder could have targeted anyone, the fact that it happened to   
target you..." He looked at him. "You have nothing to apologize for any   
more, doctor."

"I know I'm asking a lot, Garak, but can we at least start over?" Julian   
asked, holding out his hand. "No pressure, nothing too intimate; just   
simple friendship. No strings attached."

Garak looked at him for a moment, then stepped forward, meeting him   
halfway. He hesitated, then grasped Julian's hand. "I'll try. I can   
promise, however, that I will be civil and I will try not to continue   
blaming you for what is not your fault. After all, despite what you said   
just now, this ultimately is all due to decisions I made. I failed us   
all when I chose to ignore what my instincts were trying to tell me. I   
allowed myself to be fooled; I'm only sorry that you had to pay the   
price for my mistake."

Unable to stop himself, Julian asked, "Why did you? Why did you allow   
the Founder in so far, so fast?"

"Because it was what I wanted and it seemed so much easier to let it   
happen than to question it. I allowed my loneliness and own selfish   
needs to cloud my judgment and...not for the first time. I deliberately   
chose to ignore the lessons of my past despite already knowing that."   
Garak's lips curved upward in a sad smile. "My failure, doctor, is that   
I am my father's son just as much as you are yours. Your rebellion was   
to join the service; mine was to have the hubris to think that I was not   
bound by the limitations Tain set upon me."

"I don't understand."

"It's not something that can be easily explained," Garak said in a low   
voice. "Let's just say that I made the mistake of wanting something I   
could not have and when I got it, I allowed myself to pretend that there   
wasn't a hidden cost attached."

Julian shook his head and frowned, "Garak, I'm sorry, but if you go   
through life questioning every gesture of friendship or intimacy, you'll   
never be happy."

"Some of us are not meant for happiness." Garak's voice was steady and   
his manner tragically confident. "I should see if the Minister would   
like a tray sent to his cabin."

"Of course," Julian said. "I'll see you later during dinner."

He stared at the door long after Garak had gone, his mind replaying   
Garak's words over and over again.

Some of us are not meant for happiness.

He sighed and headed out toward the dining hall. Perhaps Garak was   
right. Perhaps some people, people like them, were meant to always be alone.

Perhaps, but he really hoped not.


	7. Promises

CHAPTER SEVEN: Promises

 

The comm unit was chiming when the medical team returned from dinner.   
Okuna touched the monitor and was greeted by the image of Major Kira   
seated at what was quite obviously Captain Sisko's desk.

"Oh please tell me this means you chucked that loser MacKelroy out of an   
airlock," he said in lieu of a greeting.

Kira grinned. //I never realized you were so bloodthirsty, Dr. Okuna.//

"'First do no harm' only goes so far, you know?" he said in return.

"Shut up, Okuna," Girani said, coming to stand beside him. "What's the   
news, Major?"

//The news is that MacKelroy has been placed in Federation custody and   
removed from DS9--permanently if I have any say in it. All of you are to   
come home immediately and bring Ziyal and Jake with you.//

"What about Dr. Bashir?" Okuna asked as Julian gravitated toward them.

Kira glanced at Julian apologetically. //Sorry. Captain Figueiredo is   
working with Admiral Gilhouley on that but we haven't heard back yet.//

"At least someone is trying," Julian said with a sigh. "I can't leave   
anyway--none of us can. We're under quarantine, Major."

//Quarantine? Because of Ziyal?//

"Her and the rest of the monastery. Whatever this virus is, it's highly   
contagious. So far only Ziyal is critical but there is evidence it has   
already spread throughout the population of Bajor. Who's manning the   
Infirmary: the LMH?"

//Dr. Kothrov and part of her team from the Venture.// Kira frowned. //I   
told Figueiredo I'd only be keeping them here temporarily. How long are   
you going to be?//

"We don't have a definite timetable on this thing yet, I'm afraid."

"Hell, we don't have anything on this thing yet," Girani grumbled.

//Damn,// Kira said. //I'll tell Figueiredo and try to work something   
out.//

"Major, while you're doing that, could I ask you to send down a   
metabolic scanner and a fetal monitor?" Julian asked. "Minister Krath is   
sending us a shipment of medical equipment, but the sooner we get a lock   
on this thing the better."

//I'll try,// she said. //The captain has been updating me on the   
Admiral's progress but apparently Ross has been setting up roadblocks.   
Right now, Bajor's relationship with Starfleet is strained, to say the   
least. Shipping Starfleet equipment down there might not look very good.//

"That's all right, Major," Julian said, rubbing his neck in frustration.   
"We can wait one more day."

//How bad is the outbreak? I assume Shakaar knows if Krath is down there.//

"I'm not certain that the virus is contained," he said, "but on the   
other hand I don't see any evidence that it's capable of causing a   
serious condition in full-blooded Bajorans. Ziyal is our only seriously   
ill patient, but I'm not yet satisfied that her problem isn't related in   
part to the stress of the pregnancy. We're being cautious, though, and   
enforcing the quarantine in case the virus does mutate into something   
more dangerous. I'll keep you informed."

//Should I inform Dr. Kothrov?//

"Yes. I'll send up what we have so far and she can start screening the   
inhabitants on the station. Chances are if it's already gotten as far as   
the capital on Bajor then it's all over the station."

//Understood.//

"I want to thank you for fighting for us, Major," Julian added. "These   
last few days have been a strain. This is at least one less thing for us   
to worry about."

//No need to thank me. We're all still members of the same team,   
politics be damned. I only wish I could do more.//

"You've done plenty," Girani said from beside Julian.

//Just keep Ziyal safe; that's all the thanks I need. I'll comm you   
first thing in the morning if I hear anything and I'll pass on what you   
said to the captain. Maybe she can use the information about the   
outbreak to have your suspension commuted.//

"Here's hoping," Julian said. "Good night." He reached over and turned   
off the comm unit, then looked around the room at his colleagues. "Well,   
folks, I suppose we wait and see."

"I'm just glad that MacKelroy got the boot," Okuna said. "Now all we   
have to worry about is the virus and we're home free."

"And no longer unemployed," Perreira said happily. "I was not looking   
forward to explaining that one to Eva."

Girani rolled her eyes. "Grow a pair already, Perreira. She's your   
sister, not your mommy."

"You know, Girani, just now you reminded me of her." Perreira said.

"Since I've heard you describe her as an ambitious, backbiting bitch,   
I'll take that as a compliment," Girani said with a smirk. "I'm going to   
check on Ziyal and get some sleep. Good night."

After Girani left, Perreira cocked a thumb at the door. "That woman   
really, really needs to get laid."

"You volunteering?" Okuna asked.

Perreira shuddered comically. "Oh god, I think Satan just walked over my   
grave. No, wait--that's right, she just left."

Julian sighed. "Not that I don't find you both hysterical, but it's been   
a long day."

"C'mon, Perreira," Okuna said as he headed for the door. "The monks have   
music and games in the community building around this time every night.   
Care to join us, Dr. Bashir?"

"No, thank you," Julian said, turning back to his work. "I have some   
notes I need to jot down, then I'm going to bed."

"Good night then."

"'Night doc!" Perreira said as he stepped out the door.

Julian waved at them absently, his attention already fixed on the virion   
he'd isolated earlier. This tiny crimson monster, this product of the   
shadows: what are you? Where the hell did you come from?

Tomorrow, Julian thought, just one more day and then I'll have you.

******

Girani finished her scan and looked up. "All right, then: I think we're   
doing a little better today. The anti-virals and the diabetes vaccine   
are doing their job. Hopefully when we get our equipment tomorrow we'll   
finally beat this thing once and for all."

Ziyal leaned against Jake and smiled at her weakly. "Thank you, doctor.   
For everything."

"Do you think we can figure out something with Ziyal's diet?" Jake asked   
with a frown. "I mean, I understand about the whole low protein thing,   
but it's not exactly appetizing. She's not eating well."

"I'm just not hungry, Jake."

Jake turned to her. "You have to eat, baby."

"Minister Krath is having those new food replicators brought in   
tomorrow," Girani said, giving Ziyal an encouraging smile. "That'll give   
us a more varied selection of food to work with, and hopefully that'll   
perk up your appetite. Any other problems? Any pain?"

"No," Ziyal replied. "I'm just tired and a little achy."

"Well, hopefully we can fix that soon. Have you decided if you want to   
know the baby's sex yet?"

Jake looked at Ziyal, then back at Girani. "We...want to wait. Y'know,   
just in case."

"You don't think that makes us bad people, do you?" Ziyal asked. "It's   
not that we don't want to know, it's just that--"

She shook her head. "Ziyal, Jake, I've had a lot of patients who have   
gone through difficult pregnancies. It doesn't mean that you are bad   
people or bad parents just because you are trying to keep a certain   
amount of emotional distance from the baby right now." She reached out   
and took Ziyal's hand in hers. "What you are going through is hard, and   
it's understandable that you would want to protect yourself. This baby   
may not happen, we know this. However, you should concentrate on the   
positive, not on the negative. It isn't like it was during the   
Occupation. Look at the O'Brien baby. If you want this child, I promise   
you that I will do everything I can to make it happen."

Ziyal lowered her eyes and bit her lip. "Okay. Just...can we wait a   
little longer before you tell us? I just want to make sure before..."

"Ziyal, if you want to wait, we'll wait," Jake said in a low voice.

"Really?"

"Absolutely," he promised.

Girani nodded. "A lot of moms and dads want to wait until the actual   
birth. It makes it more special for them in a way. No pressure, okay?"

"The baby is healthy, right?" Jake asked. "I mean, can you tell with   
just a scan?"

"He or she is fine, I promise. Tomorrow, Dr. Bashir will have you taken   
to the Infirmary and we'll be able to tell what's happening in there for   
sure. Right now, your little one is safe and snug, okay?" She got up.   
"I'm going to get some sleep. I'll be right next door if you need anything."

"Thank you, doctor," Jake said as she left. When the door closed he   
turned to Ziyal. "Are you hungry, baby? I can go get you something from   
the kitchen. You didn't touch your supper."

"I'm fine," she said, snuggling into his chest. "Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad?" he asked, leaning against the headboard and   
wrapping his arms around her.

"Because I don't want to know if it's a boy or a girl yet."

"No. In fact, I feel the same way you do."

"Really?" she asked as she looked up into his face.

"Sure," he replied with a shrug. "I mean, I want this baby, but right   
now it's just an idea; it doesn't seem real to me yet. I guess if it   
just stays that way then maybe..."

"If we lose it, it won't hurt as much?"

Jake shut his eyes. "It's going to hurt, Zee. Not knowing won't change   
that, but for now *you* are who I need to worry about."

"Do you want it to be a boy or a girl?" Ziyal asked suddenly.

"I don't care as long as it's healthy," he answered in a sleepy voice.

She snorted. "You are so full of it."

"No, I'm not. I honestly don't care."

"Just tell me," she pleaded. "I know you'll love our baby either way, I   
just want to know."

"Not two seconds ago you didn't even want to know the baby's sex," he   
pointed out.

"I'm trying to look on the bright side, like Dr. Girani said."

"Okay," he said after a moment's pause. "The truth is, I don't really   
care either way. I'd like either or both. All I know is that this baby   
is just the first. I want lots and lots of babies with you, Zee. I want   
little girls with your hair and eyes and little boys with my height and   
your --everything else. Most of all I just want to raise them with you   
and for us to be a family."

"That's nice," she said quietly, snuggling deeper into his chest.

He grinned. "I get something right every once in a while."

She suddenly looked up at him again. "Um, Jake?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Exactly how many babies are we talking about?"

"Not many. Just a dozen or so."

She sat up and stared at him, her jaw dropping.

"What?" Jake asked with a twinkle in his eye. "I know it sounds like a   
lot, but just think of how much fun it will be making that many babies."

"You're incorrigible," Ziyal said, lying back against him. "Be serious."

"Three, maybe four just to keep things even," he said at last. "I was an   
only child and I always grew up wishing I had a brother or sister to   
rely on, y'know?"

"I have brothers and sisters that I'll never even meet," she said   
quietly. "I wish...I wish things were different, do you know what I mean?"

"I know," Jake said kissing the top of her hair. "Who knows, maybe   
someday they will be. For now we have each other and the blob. That's   
enough."

"The blob?" she repeated with a laugh.

"Yeah." He placed his hand on her slightly rounded stomach. "The blob."

"I'm not going to call the baby 'the Blob'."

"What do you want to call it then? Junior? Mystery baby?" Jake asked.

"Prophets, we haven't even thought about names yet, have we?" Ziyal said   
in alarm.

"We have time, Zee." Jake chuckled.

"Still, we should start thinking about it." Ziyal said thoughtfully.

"What do you want to name it?"

"We could name it after our fathers if it's a boy."

"Elmo Benjamin Sisko?" Jake snorted. "Not."

"Okay, what about after our mothers if it's a girl?"

"Jennifer Naprem. I like it," Jake said mulling it over. "Or, we could   
call her Deborah Naprem after my grandmother."

"What's your grandfather's name again?" Ziyal asked. "Joseph?"

"Joseph Oscar Sisko."

"Oscar..." Ziyal repeated.

"You want to name our baby Oscar?" Jake snorted. "Why? Does it mean   
something weird in Bajoran or something?"

"No, I just like the way it sounds. It seems like a strong name. Noble."

"Oscar," Jake said dubiously. "Okay, but you get to explain it to him   
the first time he comes home with a bloody nose."

"I like it," Ziyal said simply.

"Oscar or Jenny..." Jake began.

"Or Deborah," Ziyal added.

"Or Deborah," Jake said, sliding further down the bed and closing his   
eyes. "I'm thinking that maybe we should find a baby name PADD or this   
kid is going to have a reason to hate us from the get go."

 

*****

 

The transport carrying the medical equipment arrived just after   
breakfast the next morning. Several medical technicians dressed in   
HAZMAT gear beamed down and set up a large hard sided medical tent, then   
helped get the equipment ready. The neuroscanner alone would have left   
the small infirmary horribly cramped, so Julian was thankful for Krath's   
foresight in having both the tent and a number of emergency cots sent   
down. While the medical tent was being erected, the food and medical   
replicators were being installed along with the various pieces of   
diagnostic equipment. The monks handled the invasion well and did their   
best to direct the flurry of activity. As soon as the last machine was   
set up and the last few vials of medicine were stored away, Julian had   
Ziyal brought in for testing.

After she was settled comfortably on the biobed, he started the fetal   
scan. "If you look at the holopad beside you, you'll see what I'm   
seeing, all right?"

"Can we see the baby?" Ziyal asked, holding Jake's hand.

"You sure?" Jake asked quietly.

She smiled. "I'm sure."

"Can we, doc?" Jake asked.

"I think we can manage that," Julian said, entering a command on the   
scanner's control panel. The transducer hovered over Ziyal's midsection;   
after a brief pause, a hazy light began to shimmer just above the   
holopad beside the bed. A tiny ball of light shimmered and moved, then   
grew. "I'm magnifying the image. Hold on."

Ziyal and Jake gasped as a three-dimensional rendering of their baby   
appeared before them. Ziyal reached out her hand toward the little   
bundle of life. "Oh my..."

The fetus stretched and moved its legs, turning over with a comical yawn.

"It's a boy," Jake said excitedly as the fetus flashed him for just a   
fraction of a second. "It's a boy!"

Ziyal laughed. "Look! He has your eyes."

Jake reached out to touch the image, watching in awe as the light   
scattered for a moment before solidifying over his fingertips again.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a few more weeks before you can hold   
him," Julian said with a smile.

"Oh my God, this is awesome." Jake said, staring at his son.

"It is fairly awesome, isn't it?" Julian agreed. "This type of scanner   
isn't even on the market yet."

"How accurate is it?" Ziyal asked, jumping a little then laughing as the   
baby began to hiccup.

"Very." Julian took a moment to look at the image. "See the slight   
embellishment on the baby's forehead and the light ridging on his nose?   
He's still got another fifteen weeks or so to go but he's already   
starting to look like his parents." He zoomed in on the fetus's hands.   
"See his little fingers?" The baby, as if on cue, brought them up to his   
mouth and began to suck on his tiny hand.

"Jake..." Ziyal breathed.

"I can't believe this is real," Jake said, amazed. "Zee, that's our   
baby. That's me and you in there."

"Oscar," Ziyal said, smiling. "Look Jake, it's Oscar."

"Oscar?" Julian repeated then looked at the baby objectively. "He does   
look a little like Dorian Gray, doesn't he?"

"Dorian Gray?" Ziyal asked, turning to Jake.

"I'll...explain it later." Jake turned to Julian. "He's okay though, right?"

"He's a healthy eight-week-old fetus," Julian said, magnifying the image   
again. "He's very well developed and he appears to be growing at a   
normal rate for a Bajoran infant. Ten fingers, ten toes, one...well,   
let's just say he's going to be a big boy."

"That's my boy! Chip off the old block," Jake said. Ziyal smacked him   
lightly.

Julian downloaded an image of the fetus onto a padd and gave it to Jake,   
smiling at the two of them. "Here's a picture of Oscar. Jake, if you   
could push your chair back a bit? I need to set up the neuroscanner."

As he maneuvered the heavy piece of equipment so that the transducer sat   
over Ziyal's head and shoulders, he gave her another confident smile. "I   
promise we'll get back to Oscar after I've tracked down our little viral   
friend," he told her.

He began the scan, then frowned as the first results came up. The brain   
was relatively free of virus particles, but there were signs that the   
spinal nerves had withstood a recent attack. He panned down and scanned   
the cervical spine.

"What is it, doc?" Jake asked.

Julian repositioned the scanner again, entering a series of commands on   
the neuroscanner's control panel. "I don't know," he said to Jake. "Give   
me a minute."

As the results of the thoracic scan came up, he swore under his breath.   
The damn thing had set up shop in her dorsal root ganglia all the way   
from T-4 to L-6, but most of all in the T-9 to L-1 area. No wonder she   
was having digestive problems; the nerves leading to and from her small   
intestine, stomach, pancreas, and liver were completely involved, and   
the ganglia had shrunk by over 50%.

"Doc?" Jake repeated nervously.

"It's fine, Jake. I'm just concentrating."

He isolated a virion from the left L-1 ganglion and brought the image to   
maximum magnification. What he saw made him want to drop his jaw. He   
managed--barely--to keep his surprise in check as he saved the image to   
a file. He then moved the transducer down and locked in on the fetus's   
newly-formed nervous system.

"Does Oscar have the virus, too?" Ziyal asked.

"Yes," Julian said after a moment, keeping his voice neutral, "but he   
seems perfectly healthy otherwise. No need to worry yet." He shut off   
the scanner.

"That's it?" Jake asked in surprise.

"That's it. I have to examine a few more patients but we should be done   
for the day." Julian smiled at Ziyal as he helped Jake ease her up and   
onto a hoverchair. "It's a lovely day out. Why don't you take your PADD   
and go visit with Garak for a while? I know he's been wanting to see you."

"Is it safe?" Ziyal asked.

"Absolutely," he said. "Go out and have some fun today. Just don't tire   
yourself out too badly. The minute I have something you'll both be the   
first to know, all right?"

"Thank you, doctor," Jake said, shaking his hand.

He watched as Jake pushed Ziyal's chair out of the tent, then turned   
back to the scanner, switching it on and bringing up the saved image of   
the virion again.

"What the hell..." Okuna said in a low voice as he entered the tent and   
looked over Julian's shoulder.

"It's a - I guess we could call it a nanovirus," Julian said, looking at   
the inner workings of the tiny bio-robot. "Half-nanite, half-virus, if   
this is correct."

"I guess that confirms our theory that it was manufactured," Okuna said   
faintly.

Julian looked up. "Send in Danna, then Krath," he said. "I need to   
figure out what is going on here."

"What is it?"

Julian brought the images of Ziyal's virion and her fetus's virion side   
by side.

"That's not right," Okuna said with a frown. "The virus isn't the same   
from one patient to another? Even from mother to infant?"

"Look closer," Julian said, magnifying the RNA strands. "What does that   
remind you of?"

Okuna's mouth dropped. "Holy jumping..."

"We need to scan Krath and Brother Danna before we can know for sure,   
but I think we might just have figured this one out," Julian said, his   
eyes flashing. "But first, I need to make a call."

"Who are you going to comm?" Okuna said, still staring at the virus in   
shock.

"Shakaar."

"Why? We don't know anything for certain yet."

"I know enough," Julian said grimly as he sat behind his desk and waited   
for the comm unit to connect.

******

 

A few hours later, the rest of the assembled medical team stared at the   
holoimages of the four separate virions in rapt silence.

"Right," Julian said, walking over to the holopad and pointing to each   
in turn. "Ziyal, the fetus, Krath, and Danna. What do you see?"

"The damn thing is adapting to each one of their specific DNA   
sequences," Girani said grimly.

"What does that mean?" Reven asked.

"It means," Okuna said, "that the reason the hybrids were the first   
population to experience symptoms is because Ziyal was the first one to   
be infected."

Reven frowned at him. "How do you know that for sure? I mean, that Ziyal   
was the first?"

"It's what the numbers are telling us," Julian answered as he typed in a   
command. A full body scan of Ziyal's internal organs appeared; the   
trillions of tiny virions were highlighted in a glowing red. "Ziyal was   
subjected to a massive dose of this nanovirus, which is probably why her   
symptoms are so advanced. Krath and Danna have less than half that amount."

Okuna walked over to the scanner and adjusted the output until the   
virions were once again magnified side by side. "See this RNA strand in   
Ziyal's virion? It's the same as the virion in Danna's system." He moved   
Danna's and Ziyal's virions to the side and brought up the others. "This   
is Krath's virion and this is the baby's. See the difference?"

"I don't get it," Perreira said in confusion.

Okuna pointed to the strands. "It means that our 'off-the-wall'   
conspiracy theory about how the virus was originally targeted toward the   
Cardassians was probably correct. When Ziyal was infected, the virus   
encountered her unique immune system first. Being half-Bajoran she has   
different immune markers than a pure-blooded Cardassian would, so the   
virus adapted to its environment."

"This isn't a normal virus," Julian said, taking over. "It's a   
nanovirus; a biologically based nanite. We've seen this type of   
technology before."

"Borg," Perreira said with a scowl.

"Exactly."

"Wait!" Girani said. "First we thought we were dealing with Founder   
technology, and now we're looking at something created by the Borg?"

"It's both and it's neither," Okuna answered. "Someone has taken   
Jem'Hadar DNA and transformed it into a virus by applying Borg   
nanotechnology."

Reven's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"Us," Julian replied. "Or someone with our level of technology. Perhaps   
the Romulans or someone else, but this originated in the Alpha Quadrant.   
As Dr. Okuna and I started sifting through the data I kept seeing   
evidence that some of the base codes in this virion match the data I   
recorded in my own research concerning the Ketracel White. That means   
that whoever created this had to have access to that information."

"But whoever created it didn't have all of the information they needed,"   
Okuna said. "Dr. Bashir's the foremost expert on Ketracel White, and   
even he'll readily admit he's months or even years away from completely   
understanding the process used in its creation. We're equally in the   
dark when it comes to Borg technology, but whoever this mad scientist   
was, he decided he knew just enough to create a bioweapon that could be   
programmed to attack people with a specific DNA signature."

"But it didn't work," Julian continued. "Because Ziyal was infected   
first, the virus recognized her Cardassian DNA but couldn't cope with   
her Bajoran immune system so it adapted by attacking and retreating   
until it learned how to overcome it."

"Exactly." Okuna turned to him. "Whoever did this failed to take into   
account that Borg technology is specifically designed to adapt and   
reprogram itself."

"Which is why the infected would get sick then get better again," Reven   
said, his face clearing.

"After learning Ziyal's immune system and its limitations," Okuna added,   
"the virus has changed its base programming and now thinks its job is to   
infect hybrids; resistance is--well, you get where I'm going with that.   
It basically did its job, just not the one it was originally intended   
for. It also didn't stop doing that job. Borg nanites infect and adapt;   
it's so ingrained into them that whatever firewalls the programmer   
placed within the nanovirus's coding must have failed." He shook his   
head. "Ziyal and the rest of the hybrids are part Bajoran, so now that   
the nanovirus has changed its programming, it now believes it should   
attack Bajorans as well. Because the Bajoran immune system is stronger   
than the hybrid population's immune systems, it again needs time to adapt."

"So it's jumping from one species to another based on Ziyal's genetic   
make up," Perreira said.

"Hold on," Girani said with a frown. "Ziyal's baby is half-human. Humans   
are immune, right? None of you are infected."

"Which is why the virus is different in the fetus's system," Julian said.

"So once Ziyal's baby is born, it could jump another species line and   
infect humans?" Perreira asked.

"It could, but we aren't going to let it get that far," Julian said with   
a triumphant grin. "The creator of this nanovirus didn't count on anyone   
here discovering its existence. Cardassian medical technology is   
woefully limited so I'm guessing they counted on the likelihood that its   
true nature might not have been discovered until the damage was done.   
But we found it instead, and we've also discovered that it contains a   
shut-off sequence built into its DNA. If we use a drug with a yridium   
bicantizine base it should do the trick."

"That's it?" Perreira asked doubtfully. "I mean, we thought of using the   
White as a possible treatment days ago."

"But before now, we weren't sure it would work," Okuna said pointedly.   
"It's also not that easy to get ahold of. Yridium bicantizine is created   
by breaking down tri-nucleic fungi and the only place you can find that   
in the Alpha Quadrant is on Kabrel I. Even if the Cardassians figured   
that out, they'd have to negotiate with the Federation for the cure   
since Kabrel I is a Federation planet."

"Which means Garak's theory is looking more solid than ever," Julian   
said. "Unless they obtained the cure from us, the disease would ravage   
their entire population. The second they came to us for help, the   
Federation would expect Cardassia to sign a peace treaty with the   
Federation at the very least; they might even have required Cardassia to   
demilitarize. Either way, we are the ones who would have benefited had   
it worked."

"Why didn't Garak get infected then?" Girani asked. "I mean, if your   
theory is correct wouldn't he be even more sick than Ziyal right now?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Okuna said as he pulled up another   
holoimage. "Here's Garak's scan, though: nothing."

"So you're saying that the only race safe from this disease are the   
Cardassians?" Reven asked incredulously.

"Garak is the proof," Julian said. "No antibodies, no virions."

Perreira frowned. "How the hell can that be?"

"Do you remember when Tekeny Ghemor died?" Okuna asked.

"Yes, but he died of Yarim Fel Syndrome," Girani said. "That's not   
viral; that's an autoimmune disease."

"You're right," Julian cut in, "but if the programmer didn't know that   
and devised this little monster to mimic the symptoms of Yarim Fel   
Syndrome while at the same time ensuring that it didn't respond to   
hexadrin..." He looked up at his team. "Cardassian spinal cords aren't   
even prone to viral infections. The cell walls are too tough. This could   
never have been successful."

Girani scowled. "That doesn't make any sense! Why would anyone create a   
bioweapon to eliminate a specific population and then fail to take into   
consideration something as basic as that?"

"Federation scientists know very little about Cardassian physiology,"   
Julian explained. "Had I been one of the scientists creating this virus,   
I might have made the same error. The only reason I know is because I   
operated on Garak's brain three years ago."

"So this was a fuck-up from the get go?" Girani said

Julian nodded. "Garak said Section 31 doesn't operate like a formal   
covert ops group. They work in cells, and the left hand doesn't know   
what the right hand is doing, so it would be possible for a number of   
scientists to be working independently on different aspects of the   
nanovirus. I suspect, though, that they hired someone from outside the   
Federation to create it." He met their gazes. "If you pay a scientist on   
Adigeon Prime or Calopas VI enough money, they'll do whatever you want   
them to do. That's one of the reasons why it's illegal to seek medical   
treatment there. I could have been rendered profoundly autistic by the   
procedures my parents had done to me; many humans who went through the   
same procedures are institutionalized. However, if you want something   
done and you don't want to leave a paper trail behind, that's where you   
go. My guess is that this was done quickly and with little regard to any   
potential collateral damage. The shadow group wanted the virus and the   
scientist wanted his or her money. This is the result."

"But you can cure this?" Reven asked.

"We applied a solution of yridium bicantizine to some of the virions in   
vitro and this is what happened," Okuna said as the holoimage changed.   
The bright crimson of the original virion dimmed then turned dark and   
shadowed. "The virions completely shut down. No activity whatsoever."

"How soon can we start administering it?" Reven asked.

"I want to test it first," Julian replied. "Since Ziyal is the furthest   
along she'll receive the first dose."

"What about Danna and the rest?" Reven said with a frown.

"As soon as we are sure Ziyal is out of the woods, we'll inoculate   
everyone in the compound and notify the Ministry of Health," Okuna   
answered for him.

"Any other questions?" Julian paused for a moment, then turned to   
Girani. "If that's all, then all we have left is to decide when to   
administer the hypo to your patient."

"It's ready?" she asked in surprise.

"Dr. Bashir had just enough White left over from his research to produce   
one dose," Okuna said, holding up a hypospray.

"I spoke to Dr. Kothrov an hour ago," Julian added. "She said she can   
get more for us by the end of the week. By that time we should know for   
sure that the drug is working." He smiled. "She's your patient, Girani.   
Care to do the honors?"

Girani got up and took the hypospray from Okuna with a grin. "I'd love to."

"You know, when this thing gets out the shit is going to hit the fan,"   
Perreira said. "Even if we can't prove it in court, there's enough   
medical evidence here to really embarrass the Federation."

"Perreira has a point," Girani said. "You're already on thin ice with   
Command. Being a whistleblower isn't going to do your career any favors   
at this point."

"Doc Bashir already thought of that," Okuna answered.

They all looked at him expectantly.

"I commed Shakaar with the results before I commed Dr. Kothrov...then I   
officially resigned my commission from Starfleet," Julian said. "You're   
looking at the new head of Infectious Disease Control for the Bajoran   
Provisional Government."

"So that means what?" Perreira asked. "I mean, as a Bajoran doctor does   
that mean that you can now come back to DS9?"

"As soon as things have quieted down here," Julian replied. "No   
commission means no suspension. It was Shakaar's idea. I'll be a   
civilian working for the Bajoran government from here on out."

"You sure you want to do that, doc?" Perreira said cautiously. "I mean,   
you worked hard for your commission. That’s a lot to give up."

"I'll still be doing the same job I always was," he replied. "The only   
thing that will change is the uniform or the lack of one."

"Sometimes it's better to work outside of the military." Okuna said.   
"MacKelroy showed us that. As a civilian with clout you might be out of   
the loop for a few things, but you'll also have a lot more freedom."

"Which is another reason why I was happy enough to take off my pips."   
Julian said. "Don't get me wrong; I loved being an officer, but now I   
need the freedom to be a doctor. I was in a position where one could   
potentially interfere with the other so I decided the only thing I could   
do was resign."

"Like I said before, sometimes you have to say fuck the career and do   
the job!" Girani said with a grin.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Julian agreed.

"It's about damn time we had some good news around here," Okuna said,   
heading out the door. "Let's go see Ziyal and then raid the wine cellar.   
First bottle is on me."

 

******

 

"I feel so much better this morning!" Ziyal said as Jake and Julian   
helped her get on the biobed the next day. "And my appetite--I can't   
believe I ate that much food."

"It was kind of scary," Jake said ruefully. "She ate her breakfast, my   
breakfast, and then wanted me to go get some more. When I told her you   
said she had to stick to small meals at first I swear I thought I was   
next on the menu."

Ziyal rolled her eyes. "Oh, hush."

"As long as it's not hurting you, I don't mind you having a little   
extra," Julian said. "Gaining a little weight won't hurt, but your   
stomach is still a bit shaky and you don't want to push it. Small   
frequent meals--six to eight a day and you need to let Jake eat as well,   
all right?"

She frowned at the two of them. "He was exaggerating, but I understand.   
Now define 'small', because I could really use a snack right now."

"I told you, doc--scary." Jake said, shaking his head. "If she keeps   
this up by the time the baby is born she'll be as big as a house."

She threw him a look. "And?"

"And nothing," Jake added. "I like a woman with some meat on her bones."

"Good."

"In fact, I love big girls," he continued, his eyes twinkling. "Big,   
bouncy girls with nice round...eyes."

"Shut up," she said, snorting as Jake winked at her.

Julian chuckled at the pair. "I can tell you're also in much better   
spirits today. Let's see if young Master Oscar is feeling similarly   
perky, shall we?" He positioned the fetal scanner over Ziyal's uterus   
and turned it on. Jake and Ziyal held each other's hands as the image of   
their son shimmered above the holopad.

"He's asleep," Ziyal whispered.

"He can't hear us, Zee," Jake said as he looked up at Julian. "Can he?"

"Yes," he replied, "somewhat. Right now we're just background noise   
though; no need to whisper."

"Can he, uh..." Jake began, fumbling his words a little.

Julian held back a grin. "It's okay to have sex during the pregnancy as   
long as Ziyal is comfortable. The baby won't be disturbed by it, I promise."

"Oh, good."

Ziyal smacked his arm. "Jake!"

"Well--I wanted to know," he said sheepishly. "I didn't want to...bump   
anything."

"Jake..." she hissed as she flushed a deep scarlet.

Julian gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's okay. That   
is a very common question new parents ask all the time. I take it Dr.   
Girani hasn't gone over this with you yet?"

"We've been a little distracted," Ziyal said, still blushing.

"To say the least," Jake muttered.

"If you would feel more comfortable asking her, I understand," Julian   
assured them both. "But if you want, you can ask me anything. I won't be   
shocked or embarrassed, I promise. There is very little I haven't seen   
or heard so you don't need to hold back."

"Can...can we..." Ziyal asked, dropping her eyes. "I mean, is it safe   
to...?"

Jake placed his hand on her shoulder. "We're getting married later this   
afternoon so this is kind of our honeymoon."

"I'd heard that!" Julian said. "Congratulations! However, for now I   
think you should remain on pelvic rest until Dr. Girani clears you. I'll   
meet with her after your scan and give her the results then she'll meet   
with you both, all right?"

"Yes, doctor," Ziyal said.

Jake looked at the image of their son again. "His eyelids are moving; is   
that normal? I mean, can he dream?"

"We don't know," Julian said, looking at the baby closely. "Probably. If   
they do it's a good dream. He's warm and safe and floating in a world of   
sound and water. All he knows at this point is pure happiness."

"That's nice," Ziyal murmured as she stared at her child in wonder.

Jake bent down and kissed her forehead then grasped her hand again and   
squeezed.

As Julian wheeled out the neuroscanner and powered up the transducer,   
Jake put a protective arm around Ziyal as they quietly marveled over the   
new life they'd created, joy and contentment evident in every word they   
murmured to each other. He was loath to interrupt them, but after a few   
moments he spoke up. "Let's get this scanner in place, shall we?" he   
said to Jake. "If you'll lie down flat on the bed, Ziyal?"

She slid down the bed. "How's that?" she asked.

"Perfect."

He began the scan, then increased the magnification until he could see   
the virions clearly. The drug seemed to be working: the once   
brilliantly-colored nanovirions were now dark and lifeless, and some   
were beginning to disintegrate. He moved the scanner lower; the same   
process was taking place in the fetus as well.

"Is everything okay?" Jake asked.

"We're good," Julian replied, saving the data for later review. "Most of   
them are dead and the rest appear to be dying. I think we're almost out   
of the woods."

Jake cupped Ziyal's face and kissed her reverently. "I love you," he   
said to her as they broke apart. "I was so scared...god, don't ever do   
that to me again, okay?"

"I didn't do it on purpose the first time," Ziyal said, "but I promise   
to try."

"And I'll hold you to that, young lady," Julian said, breaking in.   
"Remember, we're not quite done here yet. I want to keep you here at   
least another week or two until the virus is completely out of your   
system. No strenuous exercise and, as I said, you need to speak to Dr.   
Girani before resuming normal sexual activity."

"You got it, doc," Jake said, reaching out to shake his hand. "Thank you   
so much. For everything."

Julian clasped the younger man's hand. "It was my pleasure, Jake."

Ziyal frowned. "Jake..."

"Oh, yeah." He looked back up. "Um, about the wedding...how much do you   
know about Bajoran bonding ceremonies?"

"Not a lot," Julian admitted.

"Well, um, we're waiting until my dad is back to have the civil ceremony   
on DS9 but we wanted to go ahead and have the religious service here.   
I...already said that, right? Anyway, the thing is I need a witness for   
my side--Garak is Zee's, and I was wondering..."

"You want me to be your best man?" Julian asked in surprise.

"It's not exactly the same as a best man," Jake said quickly. "It's more   
like you would be representing the head of my family since my dad can't   
be here, but yeah. Only if you want to, though."

"I'd love to," he replied. "I'm somewhat surprised that you'd pick me,   
though. Dan and Adam are both closer to your age."

"Well, I could have asked one of them, but you're one of the first   
people I met when my dad and I came here and if it weren't for you..."   
Jake reached out and took Ziyal's hand, then looked back toward him.   
"You saved my family, doc. I can never repay you for that. Next to   
dad..." Jake flushed. "You know what I mean. I want you there, doc. Really."

"I had a lot of help, Jake, but thank you." Julian said, touched. "Is   
there anything I need to do or wear? I could replicate a suit, I   
suppose. I only brought jeans and some t-shirts along."

"Actually, yeah." Jake said. "There's some kind of rule about not   
wearing...what did they call it, Zee?"

"Mixed fiber clothing," Ziyal supplied, turning to Julian. "No   
replicated materials or clothing made from blended material can be worn   
by the wedding party or witnesses. One of the other monks had some   
wedding robes she's loaning us since everything we brought is   
replicated, but maybe we can see if they have something for you as well."

Julian frowned. "I may have something, but it's just jeans and a sweater   
like I said. It's probably not appropriate for--"

"That's fine!" Jake said. "Like we said, it's not a formal ceremony.   
Most everyone there will either be in work robes or jeans."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. In fact, if the monks hadn't had the robes already that's   
what I'd be wearing myself." Jake smiled. "All that matters to us is   
that you're there. We can save the formal stuff for when my dad gets home."

"In that case just tell me when and where to stand and I'm your man."

"After dinner in the temple," Jake said. "You have no idea how much this   
means to me, doc."

Julian took the young man's hand in a warm clasp once again. "It means a   
lot to me too, Jake."

What was that like, he wondered as he watched them leave together. He'd   
never felt that level of joy the two young people were obviously feeling   
right now. Something had always held him back. He'd never allowed   
himself the freedom of truly loving or wanting something that badly, and   
he'd especially never considered having a child.

Part of that came from his fear of passing on his genetic imperfections,   
but mostly it was his fear of intimacy. He was so determined not to   
become his father that the very idea of having a child had caused him to   
immediately break off his engagement with Palis. They'd agreed not to   
have children, but she'd changed her mind, informing him of her decision   
on the eve of their engagement party; he'd bolted. And yet, he thought,   
there'd been Gaia, the planet where the Defiant had been knocked back in   
time and stranded. A planet filled with the descendants of the   
crew...his crew...

The fact that he, or rather an alternate version of himself, had   
fathered several generations of descendants had intrigued and amazed   
him, not just because they had all been born healthy and whole but   
because his other self had found the courage to somehow take that leap   
of faith. He certainly hadn't had the inclination to do so. Julian had   
joked with Miles about how he and Ensign Kirby, the young woman his   
counterpart had married, should get together, but he'd practically   
shunned the young woman after returning to the station. She had made   
overtures which he'd rejected in a fairly callous fashion; Kirby had   
ended up despising him and, possibly out of embarrassment, had   
transferred to another posting shortly thereafter.

Why was letting someone in so hard? How was it that two teenagers had   
the emotional maturity to accept the responsibility of having a family   
when he, a man in his thirties, could not? He wanted intimacy--he wanted   
it specifically with Garak, but a relationship with the other man came   
with numerous complications. Namely, the children.

He thought about Garak and the way he looked at Lewin and Kela. The   
Cardassian's eyes held the same pride Jake's had when he'd looked at his   
unborn son. Although they were not his children in the biological sense,   
Garak was their father: of that there was no doubt.

Guilt flooded Julian as he flashed back on their conversation when he'd   
tried to reach out to him. He was so focused on making Garak see *him*   
that he'd forgotten about Lewin and Kela and their place in Garak's   
life. It was an all-or-nothing situation; to be with Garak now would   
mean he would have to accept the responsibility of potentially becoming   
the co-parent to a ready-made family.

Him, the man who used to be adamant about never dating virgins or people   
with children. The man to whom anything deeper than a mutual love of sex   
was anathema...

He was thirty-three years old, a grown man, and yet he still thought of   
himself as the blithe, thoughtless teenager he'd once been, the kid   
whose main obsession in life was fucking. But he was beginning to   
realize that deep down he wasn't that boy any more. He was a man, and he   
wanted something more.

He sighed as he looked up at the chrono. Perhaps his lack of enthusiasm   
was nothing but post-traumatic stress, but he didn't think so. He'd   
simply grown up, and he wanted the kind of stability and love that Miles   
had with Keiko and Dax had with Worf. But could he turn himself into a   
family man? Everyone else seemed to have no problem with it. Could he   
love Kela and Lewin? Could he possibly handle that responsibility?

He thought back to Jake, picturing him as he stood beside his soon-to-be   
wife. The boy he had met almost six years ago was now a man,   
straight-backed and proud as he looked into his future eagerly. This   
wasn't a teenager who had gotten in trouble, no; Jake was a man, a   
father, and soon he would be a husband, and he handled that fact with   
grace and pride. Could Julian really do no less?

If he truly wanted Garak, if he really wanted to change the course of   
his life and really embrace who Jules Bashir could be, then yes: he could.

Now he just had to get Garak to go along with it.

 

*****

 

Julian returned to the Infirmary after dinner to change. As he pulled   
out the old but clean blue jeans and slipped them on, he let out a sigh   
of relief: after five years they still fit! He suspected that the   
exercise regimen he'd started while in the Dominion prison had restored   
his physique to its former condition. Now all he had to do was keep   
himself in shape, he thought ruefully. He decided to put himself on a   
strict exercise routine starting tomorrow. After all, while he was on   
Bajor he didn't have any excuses; there were no long lines at the   
holosuites, no patients or paperwork, and no Miles O'Brien luring him to   
Quark's for beer and darts.

Miles had probably done it out of revenge, he thought with a snort.   
After all the fuss he kept making about how out of shape the Chief was,   
Miles probably figured that if he got Julian to be as fat and lazy as he   
was he'd just shut up about it and let him do whatever he wanted. Well,   
no more. He was no longer going to fall for the Irishman's blarney about   
how raising a pint with one hand while throwing a dart with the other   
counted as weightlifting. That era of self-delusion had come to an end.

He stood in front of the mirror and examined his reflection critically.   
The jeans were a go, and so were the well-worn trainers he kept for his   
rare jogging forays into the holosuites. Competitive tennis had taught   
him not to be stingy with his savings when it came to buying athletic   
shoes. They had been the latest thing in Vulcan-engineered athletic wear   
when he bought them several years back. They'd cost him more than two   
weeks salary but after six years they were still comfortable and   
decent-looking; most importantly, they were made of natural materials,   
as was most Vulcan clothing. He supposed the fact that the soles and the   
uppers were of different materials wouldn't count since technically they   
weren't mixed but merely attached. If there were any objections, though,   
he'd just show up in his socks. The only thing that had him worried was   
the sweater - the one Garak had made for his doppelganger.

It was a beautiful work of craftsmanship, to be sure, and more   
appropriate than anything else he had to wear, but he was worried about   
the Cardassian's reaction to seeing it. He stifled a curse and pulled on   
the sweater, then ran his fingers through his curls roughly. It would   
just have to do. He couldn't risk ruining Jake and Ziyal's wedding   
because of a damned fashion crisis, now could he?

Julian took one last look at his reflection. The deep bronze and brown   
threads of the sweater made his skin look darker; it also somehow made   
the beard he had begun to grow look more like a deliberate attempt at   
stylish disregard than laziness.

That was probably a good thing, he realized, since a glance at the   
chrono told him he didn't have time to shave anyway. A quick check of   
his breath and he was out the door and on his way to the temple, his   
mind trying to shut out the voice in his head telling him that wearing   
the sweater was a mistake.

He was met outside by Brother Reven, who handed him the earcuff he was   
to wear during the ceremony and gave him a brief rundown of what to   
expect, then he joined Jake in the prylar's ready room at the back   
entrance. The young man was fidgeting nervously as a slim, older Bajoran   
man in monk's robes knelt at his feet with a mouth full of pins.

"Calm down!" the older man said. "If you don't stop shuffling your feet   
I'll draw blood and Sister Yew will never forgive me if her late   
husband's wedding robes are damaged."

"Sorry, Brother Lum," Jake said, breathing in a deep calming breath.   
"I'm just--"

"Ready to get it over with?" Lum said with a snort. "I know what you   
mean. I was the same way right before my bonding ceremony. There." He   
put in the last stitch. "Not up to Brother Elim's standards, I'll wager,   
but good enough for an old sailmaker like myself. You'll do."

"Dr. Bashir!" Jake cried in relief as he finally noticed him. "Did you   
see Ziyal? How did she look? She is out there, right?"

"Calm down, Jake," Julian said, stepping forward. "I didn't see her but   
I'm sure she's fine."

"The boy's going to give himself a heart attack," Lum said as he got to   
his feet stiffly and held his hand out towards Julian. "Brother Lum. You   
must be Dr. Bashir. Good thing, too, since I think kneeling on this   
floor has about thrown out my back."

"Do you need me to get my medkit?" Julian asked as he shook his hand.

"I'll make it. If chasing after younguns all day hasn't done me in,   
twenty minutes on my knees pinning robes won't do it." He looked at Jake   
critically. "My Prophets! Sister Yew's husband must have been a damned   
giant. I thought this boy was tall but he had to have had a good four   
inches on him." He shook his head. "Seeing as Yew was all of maybe five   
foot four before old age shrunk her, that must have been one hell of a   
union."

"You're the headmaster at the school?" Julian asked with a grin.

"That and dorm mother," he said. "Tells you something when they pick an   
old salt like me to teach children and tuck them into bed every night,   
but I'm no farmer. Wrestling with the minds of hard-headed kids is all   
I'm good for - that and taking care of the ponds. You're Kela's Julian,   
eh? That girl does nothing but talk about you day and night."

"I'm rather fond of her as well," Julian said. "If I may ask, why is a   
seaman such as yourself here and not in the Hendrikspool monastery? It   
seems like that would be a better fit."

"No one comes to the Ministry of the Forgotten Children without a reason   
or a story behind it, doctor," Lum said as he patted Jake on the   
shoulder. "'Sides, this young man doesn't want to hear an old fool like   
me talk about such things on his big day, right?"

Jake shrugged. "Actually, it might get my mind off of how nervous I am.   
That is if you don't mind, sir?"

"Sir!" Lum snorted. "That pa of yours raised you right, that's for sure.   
Well, truth is, I did live in the Hendrikspool monastery for nearly four   
years before I came here, but not as a monk: as a patient."

"A patient?" Jake asked with a frown.

"Hendrikspool is where they send the heartsick, my boy," Lum said   
kindly. "After my wife died, my sons and I ran boats off the coast to   
catch fish for the local Gul's table. My youngest, Dervin, joined the   
Resistance without telling any of the rest of us and got caught with a   
boatload of escaped prisoners below deck. The Gul rounded the rest of us   
up and executed Dervin right in front of me, then sent the rest of my   
sons up to work the mines. I was thrown in prison until the Occupation   
ended, too old and ornery to work anything but a net. When I got out,   
everyone was gone. My remaining sons died in a mine shaft on one of the   
moons and my eldest son's wife and daughter died when Dukat leveled   
Tzenketh."

"Tzenketh?" Julian asked in confusion. "The planet Tzenketh?"

"The planet?" Lum chuckled. "No, son. It's not there any more, but Bajor   
used to have a mountain range called Tzenketh about two thousand   
kilometers east of here. Sky, that's my boy's name, sent his family   
there to hide before the Cardassian's came for him. Three days before   
the Occupation ended, Dukat leveled it to silence Varrat once and for   
all. Apparently Seral and their daughter had found shelter with his   
terrorist cell and died in the cave-in. At least that's what was   
assumed. She never came home and I never heard from them. About damn   
near killed me."

"I've heard of Varrat," Jake said. "Nog told me about him. He was some   
kind of folk hero during the Occupation. Some people say he got away   
after the mountain range was destroyed. About two dozen people claimed   
to be the real Varrat after the Occupation ended but no one could ever   
prove it. I think Quark still has a betting pool on whether or not he'll   
ever show up again."

"Varrat is dead and gone, son," Lum said. "You don't come back from   
something like that."

"Was he a Resistance cell leader like Shakaar?" Julian asked.

"No, he was more like the Resistance's version of Tokyo Rose," Jake   
replied. "He would have these nightly subspace broadcasts that the   
Cardassians could never seem to block and he would talk about stuff like   
top secret plans and embarrass the Cardassian High Command by exposing   
all their personal secrets."

"Varrat. That means truth sayer, right?" Julian interjected.

"And a truth sayer he was for sure," Lum said with a grin. "It wasn't   
just gossip he was telling; he knew what he was talking about. It kept   
many a Bajoran's spirit afloat. He had them Cardies running in circles   
trying to shut him up! My favorite ones were when he used to talk about   
your girl's daddy: no offense."

"None taken," Jake said easily. "Let's just say that my future   
father-in-law is probably as fond of me as I am of him."

"So what brought you here?" Julian asked the monk.

"After I curled up with a bottle and tried to drown in my own misery, my   
cousin from the monastery found me and dragged my carcass to   
Hendrikspool so I could dry out. I spent the first three years there in   
total silence, just me and my grief. After a while, I started living   
again. I took up the robes, and when Merel and Danna started the   
orphanage I decided that if I couldn't be a grandfather to my own blood   
then I could for some that didn't have family either. That's why most of   
us are here. Just about every monk in this place, male or female, has   
lost a parent, child, or a spouse to the Occupation. This isn't just a   
home for the Forgotten Children, it's for the forgotten parents as   
well." He smiled sadly. "We need those kids far more than they need us,   
make no mistake about that."

"That's...kind of beautiful when you think about it," Jake said after a   
moment.

"That it is, son." Lum placed a hand on Jake's shoulder and looked him   
in the eye. "You listen to me; this is the best advice I can give a   
young man such as yourself. A time may come when you'll wonder if it was   
all worth it. Your wife may be in a foul mood and your kids may want to   
make you tear your hair out in frustration, but you cherish them, you   
hear? Even during the bad times--especially during the bad times. One   
day when your boy comes to you half-cocked and cussing because you've   
had to lay down the law for the umpteenth time and he thinks he's grown   
and that you're just an old fool, just swallow your anger and say, 'I   
love you' because you never know when it's the last time you can say it."

"Yes, sir," Jake said solemnly. "I promise."

"You do that and no matter what life throws at you, you'll survive," Lum   
said. "There are days when the only thing that keeps me going is the   
memory of telling all of my boys how much I loved them before they were   
taken from me." He glanced up as the singing started in the outer   
temple. "Now, enough of this gloom and doom. We got to get you married,   
boy! You ready? No cold feet?"

"I was ready days ago," Jake said with a huge grin.

"Good, good!" Lum said then turned to Julian. "And you? Any questions?"

"Brother Reven briefed me on what I need to say," Julian said. "Is what   
I'm wearing all right?"

"Natural fibers? And if they are, no mixed fibers?"

"Everything but my underwear," Julian said ruefully.

"You won't tell then I won't either. It's just symbolic anyway," Lum   
said with a shrug. "Don't want you rubbing your soldier raw just for   
custom's sake."

"I appreciate that," Julian said. "Well, Jake. After you."

 

*****

 

Julian felt horribly self-conscious as he stood beside Garak, listening   
to Jake and Ziyal sing the last of their vows in the bonding ritual. It   
wasn't just Jake's stilting and off-key voice either, but the looks   
Garak kept throwing his way. Since the moment he'd walked out of the   
back room with Jake trailing behind the Cardassian hadn't been able to   
keep his eyes off of him.

He shifted his stance a little and waited for the wedding to end so he   
could get out of there and burn the damn sweater like he should have   
done the minute he'd found it in his closet. This was a mistake--a huge   
mistake.

"And who stands for the clan of Sisko?" Danna asked, causing Julian to   
jump before he quickly stepped forward.

"I stand for the clan," he said, once again grateful that as a witness   
he wasn't required to sing anything.

"And who stands for the clan of Tora?

"I stand for the clan," Garak said, his face tense.

"Turn and face one another," Danna commanded.

Julian and Garak looked one another in the eye and it was all he could   
do not to fidget.

"Clan Sisko, do you take unto your clan Tora Ziyal and join your blood   
with the blood of her people without reservation?"

"Clan Sisko finds this union worthy of the blessing of the Prophets and   
asks that Clan Tora finds our brother worthy of their sister," Julian   
said in as even a tone as he could manage under Garak's icy stare.

"Clan Tora, do you take unto your clan Sisko Jake and join your blood   
with the blood of his people without reservation?"

"Clan Tora finds Sisko Jake to be honorable and this union worthy of the   
blessing of the Prophets. He is our brother as much as she is our   
sister, from now until the end of our line," Garak said, his words calm   
despite the anger reflected in his eyes.

Danna motioned for Kela to step forward. The little girl was holding the   
small wooden bowl which held the two plain earcuffs the bridal party   
would exchange. She brought the bowl to Julian first.

"Hi, Dr. Julian," she whispered with a beaming smile.

He removed two of the three clan insignias dangling from the earcuff   
Reven had fitted him with, attaching one to each of the cuffs in the   
bowl before turning back to Garak. "I offer your sister our name and our   
shelter for as long as she wishes.

Kela then turned to Garak with the bowl and he did the same. "Our sister   
accepts and we offer your brother our name and our shelter for as long   
as he wishes."

Garak handed the bowl to Ziyal who placed it on the altar, then took one   
of the ear cuffs and placed it on Jake's ear. "As a symbol of our love   
and the acceptance of you into our clan, I offer you my name and my heart."

Jake smiled and reached into the bowl to do the same, gently placing the   
cuff on her ear and running his thumb along her cheek as he said, "I   
accept this symbol and offer you one of my own. I offer you my heart and   
my name and ask that our clans be joined with the blessings of the   
Prophets and our families."

"The clans of Tora and Sisko are now and forever one," Danna said. "One   
family, one blood."

"One family, one blood," the congregation said together.

Danna smiled at the couple. "Although it is not traditional in a Bonding   
Ceremony, you may now kiss your bride."

Jake gave him a quick grin, then turned to Ziyal and kissed her in a   
manner worthy of the latest romantic tri-vid as the entire congregation   
rose to their feet and clapped.

"Now let's all retire to the community building where we'll be serving   
cakes and punch," Danna said as soon as the couple broke apart.

Julian shook Jake's hand and hugged Ziyal, mumbling something he hoped   
was appropriate, before disappearing into the crowd of well wishers to   
make a quick getaway. He was almost at the Infirmary when Garak's voice   
stopped him cold in his tracks.

"Why?"

Julian turned to face him. For a minute he just stood there, a million   
excuses filling his brain.

"Why didn't you just throw it in the recycler or toss it out an   
airlock?" Garak asked.

"I--" Julian licked his lips. "I nearly did. I threw everything else out   
that was left behind, but I just...couldn't..."

"Why not?"

Julian looked up, steadying his nerves. "Because it was obvious that you   
made it."

Garak's mouth fell open slightly as his eyes widened in surprise. "You   
kept it because..."

"No one else could have made it so I knew it had to have come from you,"   
Julian said, swallowing his pride. "I couldn't throw it away. I'm sorry.   
If you want it back you can have it--"

"No," Garak said, shaking his head. "Keep it."

"You're sure?"

"I made it for you; it's yours."

Julian felt as though he had been slammed into a brick wall. Garak had   
just said that he made it for *him*, not the Founder.

"Really?"

"Doctor..."

"Dr. Julian!" Kela said, running up to them. "Guess what?"

Garak took a step back as Kela wrapped her arms around Julian's legs.   
Gathering his wits about him, he looked down. "What?"

"Tomorrow there's no school so Elim's taking me and Lewin on a picnic!   
Are you going to come too?"

"No, I--"

"You should come," Garak said suddenly, then paused. "If you're not   
busy, that is."

"Are you sure?" Julian asked, looking at him in surprise.

"The children would like it, doctor," Garak said, adding, "and so would I."

Julian felt something warm bubble up in his chest and he smiled. "I'd   
love to."

"Are you sure it wouldn't interfere with your duties?"

"Okuna can handle it. We're not getting any more of the substance we   
need for another week anyway."

"Good." Garak averted his eyes and motioned for Kela. "Let's go get some   
cake before your brother eats it all, shall we?"

"I love cake! It's my most favorite thing in the *whole* world--c'mon,   
Dr. Julian!" Kela called out as she took Garak's hand and pulled him   
toward the Community Building.

Julian followed in silence, one corner of his mouth quirking up as he   
shook his head.


	8. Domino

CHAPTER EIGHT: Domino

 

"Great," Julian said, looking at the smear of red jam on his t-shirt.

"I think you look good in red," Kela giggled.

"Oh yeah?" He reached over to smear some of it on her nose. "So do you!"

"You're silly!"

"Not as silly as you are."

He looked up at the riding hound who had followed them into the field  
and who was now running around in a figure-eight pattern chasing a  
butterfly. His tail whipped behind him, and in that moment he looked  
less like an iguana and more like some silly dragon out of a children's  
book. "And not as silly as that great beast of yours!" he said. "Are you  
sure it's all right to have him outside of his pen?"

"He wanders here and there during the day," Garak said, glancing up at  
the hound's antics. "As long as he doesn't disturb the livestock or get  
into mischief he's fine. The monastery's lands are fenced so he can't  
get out and scare any of the locals. Most of them know who he belongs to  
anyway."

"I guess he would attract a lot of attention. There can't be many  
Cardassian riding hounds left on Bajor after the Occupation."

"That and a lot of parents have been bringing their children out to see  
him," Garak said. "I was surprised at first by how open the adults were  
to the idea of showing their children an animal that was such a symbol  
of their oppressors, but Brother Reven explained that most feel the  
hound is just what he is: a beautiful and gentle beast. Where he comes  
from or how he came to be here isn't all that relevant to them once they  
see the joy he inspires in the faces of their children. Other than some  
herd beasts, this hound is the largest creature most of these children  
have ever seen up close. He's actually been something of a boon to the  
monastery." Garak turned his gaze away from the beast and toward him.  
"Donations are up, and when people come to visit they generally don't  
leave empty-handed. He's sold so many bottles of wine and preserves,  
Sister Hara keeps saying we should put his picture on the label."

"Don't tell Quark or he'll start a riding hound petting zoo on the  
promenade," Julian said with a crooked grin.

Pika, sensing he was the center of attention, plopped down near them,  
then rolled over to sun his underbelly. Julian reached out and petted  
his chin, smiling as the lizard-like beast growled in pleasure. "I can't  
believe he was found in the wild," he said. "Like you said, he's so  
gentle and tame. I'd always heard that they could be rather dangerous."

"Most of the stories you heard were probably exaggerated or simply made  
up," Garak replied. "I'm not saying they can't be dangerous; they can.  
They're large animals with teeth and a strong survival instinct and they  
have been known to attack and even kill if hungry or hurt. Some  
Cardassians even preferred to keep their hounds dangerous and  
unpredictable by making sure they were always kept a bit on the hungry  
side. They say it keeps them motivated but, in my opinion, that's an  
incredibly reckless practice."

"You're right."

Garak shook his head. "I never understood why anyone would want to mount  
an animal they knew they couldn't trust. For the most part, though, when  
they're well fed and treated gently hounds are rather docile in nature."  
He handed Lewin another sandwich. "Except, of course, unless they're in  
season or you're trying to break one for riding. They don't mind being  
petted and loved, but try to get on their back and you'll have a sore  
behind until they decide otherwise."

"You rode one before?" Lewin asked wide-eyed.

Garak nodded. "My master Tain kept them, and when I was about Kela's age  
I had the dubious honor of riding an unbroken hound. I broke my ankle  
but I still managed to walk all the way home afterward."

"That must have hurt," Kela said, caught up in the story. "Was your  
hound as big as Pika?"

"Bigger," Garak said. "And a miserable animal. I hated that hound. He  
was Tain's favorite, though why I have no clue. The beast never did  
break but he was a good sire and fathered many a clutch of pups for his  
stables. I had my own hound later, a bitch named Oomah. I didn't like to  
ride her though, I just liked to groom her and take her on long walks  
around the property."

"What happened to her?" Kela asked.

"Tain sold her. He said that it was a waste to keep an animal like that  
around if she wasn't being ridden regularly." Garak's expression didn't  
change, but Julian could almost hear the pain hidden within the memory.

"You must have been very sad," Lewin said softly.

"Not at all," Garak said in a lighter tone. "He was right and, besides,  
I hated to ride. Even with a saddle it's always a rather uncomfortable  
experience. Personally I'd rather just take a hover transport and save  
myself the bruises."

Kela cuddled closer to Pika and scratched his ear. "Was your hound nice?"

"Very nice and very gentle," he said, cutting her a slice of fruit and  
handing it to her. "She loved being fed slices of fresh fruit and having  
her mane brushed and braided."

"When Pika's mane gets really long I'm going to brush it every day  
and put ribbons in his hair, too!" Kela said as she licked the juice off  
her fingers and grinned from ear to ear.

"That's stupid! Pika's a boy--you don't put ribbons on a boy!" Lewin  
snorted.

"Garak said he did it to his hound!"

"Yeah, and his hound was a *girl*." Lewin rolled his eyes.

"So?" Kela scowled. "Boys can be pretty too!"

"No they can't!"

"Yes they can!"

"Children--" Garak said in a warning tone.

"I have a question," Julian asked, trying to defuse the situation before  
Lewin and Kela's argument escalated. "Why do they blind them after  
they're broken if they're so docile?"

The children both looked at him in horror and Julian winced, knowing he  
just put his foot in his mouth yet again.

Kela gasped. "They don't really do that, do they?"

"We're not going to do that to Pika, are we?" Lewin asked anxiously.

"No," Garak said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Sorry," Julian muttered with a wince.

"No need. It was a legitimate question, doctor, and the children should  
know just in case someone else ever asks." He turned to Lewin and Kela.  
"The hounds on Cardassia are sometimes blinded because there is very  
little water or natural game left. The riding hounds there are kept as  
pleasure animals only, but they still have a hunter's instinct. If they  
see a vole or some other potential game, or if they see a watering hole  
and are thirsty, they might try to buck their rider off, so it became  
common practice to blind them and dull their senses by cauterizing their  
olfactory receptors. Pika is not going to be broken for riding; he's a  
pet only. That's why the monks are so adamant when they tell all of you  
children not to try to ride him. You could get hurt and if that happened  
Pika would have to leave."

"Oh," Kela said, her tiny hand rubbing gentle circles onto the huge  
animal's snout. The hound opened its mouth and let its tongue hang out  
clownishly as she bent her head closer to his ear. "I promise I won't  
ever try to ride you anymore, okay?"

"Me neither," Lewin promised Garak. "And I promise to tell the other  
kids not to try anymore as well."

"Good man!" Garak said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Lewin flushed  
with pleasure at the compliment and smiled broadly.

Kela scratched Pika's mane. "I can't wait for your hair to get really  
long so I can make you look pretty no matter what Lewin says." The hound  
plopped to his side and nuzzled her hand then stared longingly at her  
sandwich.

"I don't care," Lewin said, pulling a face in her direction. "You gave  
him a stupid girl's name anyway. You might as well put bows and stuff in  
his hair and finish the job."

"Pika is a nice name," Kela said as she petted the pony-sized canine.  
"You're a pretty boy, aren't you!"

Lewin rolled his eyes. "I give up."

Pika opened his large maw and yawned, then pawed the ground and gazed  
longingly toward the aguaba fruit Garak was peeling.

"I swear, that animal is utterly useless as anything but a recycler and  
a fertilizer source. Here!" Garak said, tossing him a piece of fruit  
which he snapped up in mid-air and swallowed in one bite.

"He's just hungry," Kela argued.

"He's always hungry," Lewin scoffed. He turned to Garak. "Can we go  
swimming now? I'm done."

"Fine. Give the recycler over there your scraps and don't go too deep."

"I won't. It's not that deep anyway," Lewin said, scraping his plate off  
in front of Pika before jumping up and heading for the water. The hound  
rolled over and began to make short work of the scraps.

"Can I go too?" Kela asked.

"Only if you stay by your brother," Garak said with a nod.

"C'mon Pika!" she cried, running after Lewin.

The hound finished gobbling up the leftovers then looked at Garak.

"That's all you're getting from me so you may as well go," he told the  
animal.

The hound sniffed the ground one last time, then got up to lumber  
towards the children who were now splashing in the small pond.

Julian handed Garak the children's plates to put in the basket and began  
to pack up the food. He glanced up at the clear, green sky. "Pretty day  
today."

Garak looked up as well. "Yes. It's supposed to rain later in the week,  
though. Good for the crops but the sun is a welcome relief after all the  
overcast weather we've had lately." Julian snickered a little and Garak  
looked at him curiously. "Did I say something funny?"

"We're actually talking about the weather--the weather," Julian said,  
shaking his head.

Garak shrugged. "It's a perfectly legitimate conversational topic."

Julian sat back on his heels. "Garak, I didn't come here to talk about  
the weather. I came here to talk to you."

"You are talking to me."

Julian raised his eyebrows and shot him a look. "Please."

"We were just talking to the children."

"Right. We spent the entire morning talking to *the children*.  
Occasionally we managed to exchange information with each other but  
that's hardly the same thing as having a conversation."

Garak put the last of the leftovers in the basket and glanced up at him.  
"You...may have a point."

"Why is it so hard for us to just be...I don't know--ourselves, again?"  
Julian asked. "I don't know about you but this is the most nerve  
wracking picnic I've ever been on." He paused. "Not that I've been on a  
lot of picnics before; that is unless away missions and boot camp count."

"I don't think they do," Garak said with a slight smile. "I'll admit  
that eating outdoors used to be a necessity rather than a pleasure once  
upon a time, but the children seem to like it."

"You're very good with them. I meant to tell you that earlier but I  
didn't get a chance to. Lewin thinks the world of you, that's obvious."

"I think the world of him--both of them."

Julian looked over at the children who were splashing one another and at  
the hound who was wading in and lapping at the water at the same time.  
"They are something else, aren't they? I guess if there was something  
positive to come from this whole experience..." He looked at Garak. "I  
never thought about it but I guess if I hadn't been kidnapped, you never  
would have met them."

"Life is funny that way," Garak said in a subdued tone as he folded the  
napkins and laid them on top of the food in the basket. "If my  
replicator hadn't been offline, the Founder probably never would have  
made contact with me and none of this would have happened."

"It was a lucky break for me," Julian said. "Otherwise I would still be  
in that damned prison with Martok and Bajor wouldn't be here any more."

Garak nodded slightly, his eyes shadowed. "I try to keep that in mind,  
though I would rather...well." He got to his feet. "What's done is done.  
Would you like to go sit in the shade, doctor? The children will want to  
play for a while and although I'm enjoying the sun it is rather bright."

"Of course." Julian gathered up the blanket and followed Garak to a  
nearby aguaba tree. He set the blanket at the base of the huge trunk and  
gestured for Garak to sit.

"Thank you," Garak said, settling his back against the tree so he could  
watch the children comfortably.

Julian sat down beside him, close but not too close, and thought about  
what to say next. Finally, he spoke. "I thought about debating that last  
book you loaned me before this all happened but to tell you the truth,  
debating literature doesn't really seem that appealing to me anymore. In  
fact, I stayed up half the night trying to plan out our conversation."

"It's difficult to pretend that this is the Replimat and everything is  
as it used to be," Garak said in agreement. "The normal rules of  
engagement don't seem to apply anymore."

He nodded. "Before, arguing with you was fun, now just the idea of it is  
exhausting. We argued a lot, didn't we?" he said, thinking back on their  
relationship. "Politics, books, philosophy...I guess we're not those  
people anymore."

"We never were those people, doctor." Garak pointed out. "We were merely  
playing roles we had created for ourselves by mutual, if unspoken,  
agreement."

Julian glanced at him but the words had been said honestly and without  
any anger behind them. "Garak, I--"

"No more apologies," Garak said, still watching the children as they  
played. "I'm as weary of them as you are of arguing."

"Well. That narrows the topics of conversation even further," Julian  
muttered and leaned back as well. "So..."

"So."

"Did you know that the skies on Earth are blue?"

Garak's mouth twitched and he looked at him, his eyes sparkling. "So I  
had heard."

"Green is nice, though," Julian said, looking up. "More blue-green than  
green."

"I had a bolt of cloth that color once."

"You don't say?"

"Hmm."

"Quite."

That sat in silence for a minute before they both began to chuckle.  
"This is--incredibly awkward. Is it just me or do you feel like a  
complete idiot?" Julian said at last.

"I certainly do," Garak said, shaking his head.

"We've known one another for five years," Julian said. "Five years--"

"Almost six."

"Almost six," he repeated. "Why do I feel like I'm on a blind date?"

Garak looked at him, his eyeridges raised in surprise. "We're on a date?"

"Well..." Julian cleared his throat and concentrated hard on looking at  
the children. "If you want to say we are then I wouldn't have any  
objections to...you know, calling it a...date. I suppose."

Garak merely smiled ironically and shook his head. "Human courtship  
practices really are rather odd."

Julian looked at him in surprise. "You think so?"

Garak nodded. "I do."

"So, does that mean you would?"

"Would what?"

Julian licked his lips, "Would call this a date."

Garak didn't say anything for a long, nerve-racking moment. "Do you  
really want to pursue this, doctor?"

Julian met the other man's eyes. "I do."

Garak's expression was very subdued. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes: why?"

"You know, it's very annoying the way you do that," Julian said in  
consternation.

"Do what?" Garak asked.

"Cause my brain to completely and utterly shut down with very little  
visible effort on your part," he replied. "It's unbelievably damaging to  
my ego."

"I apologize," Garak said easily, not looking the least bit apologetic.

"Besides, technically you invited me so this would count as a Cardassian  
courtship ritual, not a human one. I'm just waiting for you to begin so  
that I can perhaps take some wisdom from your allegedly superior  
technique," Julian said, clearing his throat and leaning back with a  
smug expression.

"I did not," Garak said defensively.

"You invited me," Julian insisted, "and you pretty much conceded just a  
few moments ago that this was a potentially romantic situation."

"Kela invited you; I was merely making a friendly overture by--" Garak  
pursed his lips. "I refuse to be placed in this situation, doctor. As  
far as I'm concerned, this is merely a day out with the children. I had  
no other agenda in mind, I assure you."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"No agenda at all?"

"None."

"And you find me completely unattractive."

"I do."

"So how exactly do you explain your attraction for my counterpart then?"

Garak opened his mouth then shut it again quickly. "Well...he--he  
pursued me, I merely responded. I assure you I made no overtures toward  
him-you--" Garak grimaced. "You know what I mean."

"I see." Julian narrowed his eyes at his companion. "I've just had an  
epiphany, Garak."

"In regards to what, pray tell?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You," Julian said. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"How personal?"

"Very."

Garak regarded him suspiciously. "Go ahead."

"You prefer to be pursued rather than do the actual pursuing, don't you?"

"I never really thought about it actually."

"Bullshit!" Julian said with a snort.

"I haven't, and frankly it would be a gross presumption on your part to  
argue any differently," Garak retorted. "The incident you are referring  
to was a one time--I don't know what you'd call it--an anomaly. It was  
an anomaly; one that shall never be repeated, I assure you."

"That's crap. I know when you're lying, Garak! I've had years of  
practice." He pointed at Garak. "You, sir, are the spider who likes to  
wait for the fly to just stumble into his parlor. I'm right, aren't I?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Garak said, looking back  
toward where the children were playing. "All I can say, doctor, is that  
this sudden foray into the world of insects and their entertainment  
practices is a very clumsy seduction indeed if that is in fact what you  
are attempting to try with this ridiculous discourse."

Julian laughed. "No, no--I've finally got you, Garak. Now I understand  
why we danced around one another for five years when it took my  
doppelganger less than a week. You were playing it safe. You just wanted  
me to make the first move so you could sit back and control the action  
like some damned puppet master pulling at the strings!"

"That's not true!" Garak scowled at him.

"It is! You were playing hard to get for five years and I was just too  
dumb to realize that's what it was. I don't know how I missed it. Lord  
knows enough women have tried it on me through the years." He shook his  
head ruefully. "I suppose I thought that if we ever did come to an  
understanding it would be on an even playing field, man to man. I just  
never had the imagination it would have taken to realize that you were  
attempting to play the role of coquette to my lothario."

"Please, don't try to lump me in the same category as the witless masses  
of dabo girls and assorted cosmetically augmented females you have  
bedded in the past," Garak said coolly.

"Give it up, Garak; you're caught out." Julian grinned and leaned back  
against the tree trunk. "Damned if that doesn't make me feel better.  
Here I thought I was defective or something and it turns out I wasn't  
the only one with a paralyzing fear of intimacy. In fact, you're worse  
off than I am."

"Perhaps we should go back to discussing the weather, doctor," Garak  
said, folding his arms across his chest and staring determinedly towards  
the pond.

"You know what, I'm not going to do this anymore," Julian said, smiling  
at him triumphantly. "No more 'Julian the idiot' moments for me. If  
*you* want *me*, then *you* get to make the first move."

"And what makes you think I want you?" Garak asked with a raised eyeridge.

"Oh, you want me."

"You really are an arrogant ass," Garak said, staring at him in open  
amazement.

He grinned. "You want me, Garak. You want me bad."

Garak made a disgusted sound deep in his throat. "Just--go sit over  
there somewhere."

Julian leaned in closer and said in a low voice, "In fact, if I were to  
just," and he dipped his head so his mouth was near Garak's ear, "lean  
over and kiss you right now you'd be putty in my hands."

"Oh really?"

"But I won't." Julian said, leaning back. "You want me? You'll have to  
come and get me. After all, it's only fair."

"Fair?"

"I came all the way down to Bajor; the least you could do is meet me  
halfway."

"You were transferred down here after being suspended." Garak said. "You  
didn't choose anything."

Julian paused. "That's beside the point."

Garak shook his head. "You're delusional."

"And you're just being evasive."

"Evasive?" Garak said with a scowl.

"I think this will be a good experience for you, Garak," Julian said  
confidently as he sat back again. "You need to be in the hot seat for a  
while. I think I'm going to enjoy being the object of your attentions  
for once."

"It will never happen."

"I can wait."

"Then you'll be waiting for a very long time," Garak said dryly.

"So, you really don't find me the least bit attractive then?"

"I do not."

"Liar."

"Doctor Bashir. I--"

As Garak turned to look at him, Julian reached out and stroked his cheek  
with one finger, dipping his head so their lips were nearly touching.  
"Yes, Garak?"

Garak's eyes widened slightly, obviously stunned into silence. They just  
stared at one another. Time seemed to stop.

"You asked me why I wanted this," Julian said in a near whisper. "The  
truth is, I don't know why. All I know is that you and I are meant to be  
together. Every major milestone I've come to in the last several years  
centered somehow around you. Knowing you has both changed the course of  
my life and enriched it. When I was alone on the station and you were  
down here, I was so bloody miserable the only thing that kept me going  
was rubbing those damned pips of yours." His chuckle was a low rumble  
that came from somewhere deep inside. "I carried them around like a  
worry-stone and obsessed over you. Being angry at you was the only way I  
could keep myself from jumping out of an airlock some days. I even  
stopped eating in the damn Replimat because all I could think about was  
you: about your voice, about how you must taste first thing in the  
morning." His voice lowered and his words took on a seductive timbre.  
"Thinking of that Founder touching you while wearing my face about damn  
near killed me, Garak, and not because I cared about what other people  
must have thought. It should have been me in your bed, not him, and it  
shouldn't have taken me five years to get there. You have no idea how  
much I tortured myself thinking about that--none." His tone roughened as  
he drew even closer, his lips lightly touching Garak's as he spoke. It  
wasn't the same as a kiss; it was oh so much more intimate than that  
because the words he used were a seduction far deeper than the mere  
touch of flesh to flesh. "We've spent five and a half years fighting  
this and I'm too tired--too damned tired to keep up the charade any  
longer. Aren't you? Aren't you ready to just give up this stupid battle  
we've both been waging against ourselves? What's the point of it  
anymore? God knows, we both deserve some peace."

Garak took a breath and Julian could feel the air being displaced as the  
other man's mouth opened. His eyes drifted shut...

"Elim! Dr. Julian!"

They drew apart quickly, reality crashing down on them as Kela ran  
toward them, obviously upset.

"What is it?" Garak asked, both of them jumping to their feet.

"Lewin's sick!"

Julian looked over toward the pond where the boy was crawling on his  
hands and knees, obviously in distress. He broke into a run with Garak  
following.

"Lewin--what's wrong?" he asked, kneeling down and placing his hand on  
the boy's shoulder.

Lewin made a strangled noise then began to vomit. Julian held his  
shoulders until his stomach was empty and the dry heaves had stopped.  
"Kela," he said turning to the little girl, "go get a bottle of water  
from the basket and bring it to me."

"Is it the virus?" Garak asked quietly as Julian helped Lewin sit up and  
felt his pulse.

"Probably," he said, feeling the back of the boy's neck. He had a fever.  
"How do you feel? Any pain?"

"Stomach hurts--I don't feel good." Lewin moaned, clutching his abdomen.

"I imagine so." Julian said, keeping his tone light. "I think we should  
get on back to the Infirmary, don't you? We'll get you something for  
your stomach and fix you right up."

"I got some water like you told me to," Kela cried. "Is Lewin gonna die?"

"No," Garak said as he knelt down and put his hand on her shoulder  
comfortingly. "He's just had a little stomach upset, that's all."

Julian handed the water to Lewin. "Little sips--don't gulp. Can you walk  
or do you need me to carry you?"

"I-I think I can--" Lewin doubled back over in pain and clutched his  
stomach.

"All right then, here we go," he said, lifting the boy into his arms.  
Lewin wrapped his arms around his neck and buried his face into Julian's  
throat with a groan. "I'll meet you and Kela there," he said to Garak.

Garak nodded to Julian as he herded the girl toward their picnic site.  
"Kela, let's go get the basket, then I want you to put Pika back in his  
pen for me, all right?"

Julian shifted the boy in his arms and made comforting noises to him as  
he made his way back toward the Infirmary. As soon as he had topped the  
hill, though, he could tell something was wrong. There was a flurry of  
activity as people ran back and forth between the buildings. Brother  
Reven looked up, saw Julian carrying the boy, and hurried over.

"Is he all right?" the monk asked in concern.

"He's sick. What's happening?" Julian asked.

"We don't know," Reven said, his tone slightly panicked. "About an hour  
ago Danna started throwing up. I took him to the medical tent and Ziyal  
was already there - Brother Lum said she'd passed out. We've got all the  
worst cases in there now, but I don't know how long the rest of us are  
going to hold out."

Julian hurried over to the tent, Reven following.

"Oh thank God!" Perreira said as soon as Julian walked through the door.  
He and Okuna were directing the patients to the beds while Krath was  
doing his best to help despite obviously being ill as well. "What the  
hell is going on here?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," Julian said grimly, settling  
Lewin on a cot and examining his pupils again.

"My stomach hurts bad," Lewin whined, near tears.

"I know, buddy," Julian said in a low voice. "We're going to try to make  
that stop soon. You trust me, right?"

"Uh huh."

"How is he?" Okuna asked, coming over to hand Julian a tricorder.

Julian scanned him quickly. "He already has a high fever and it looks  
like it's going to spike. Perreira, I need a hypo with 10 milligrams of  
meridanol and another five of amalinol." He looked around. "Where's Girani?"

"She's putting Ziyal in stasis," Okuna replied as Perreira rushed off to  
get the meds. "Ziyal collapsed and then all hell broke loose. She's in a  
coma."

"God damn it," Julian muttered darkly. "Okay, as soon as Garak gets here  
have him help you with triage. Girani's in the scanning area, right?"

Okuna nodded. "We figured it probably wasn't food poisoning since  
everyone went down at almost the exact same time."

"Probably a safe bet."

"Here's your hypo," Perreira said, handing it to Julian. "Dr. Okuna, I  
need you to look at the patient in cot six."

"I have things in hand here," Julian said. "Go."

Okuna nodded and moved off to check the other patient in distress.  
Julian knelt down and injected Lewin with the hypo. "Now, this will help  
settle your stomach and bring down your fever. You might feel a little  
strange because it's going to make you a bit sleepy. Don't fight it;  
just close your eyes and rest, okay?"

"I'm scared," Lewin said, tears winding their way down his cheeks.

Julian felt his stomach clench as a strange feeling of helplessness came  
over him. "Everything is going to be all right, I promise."

"If anything happens you'll take care of Kela, right? You'll make sure  
she doesn't get sick, too," Lewin asked. "She's just a b-baby." He  
winced again and rolled onto his side, curling up in a fetal position.

"Just relax and let the medicine do its job," Julian said, rubbing his  
back and leaning closer.

"She can be annoying but she doesn't mean it. It's just that she doesn't  
know any better," Lewin said as his muscles began to relax. His eyelids  
began to droop within seconds and his words became slightly slurred. "If  
something happens to me and Elim, will you make sure she isn't left all  
alone? Please?"

"As long as I'm alive neither you nor Kela will ever have to worry about  
being left alone," Julian said, fighting against the lump that was  
forming in his throat.

"I'm tired," Lewin muttered as he began to drift.

"Just sleep. Elim will be here soon."

Julian ran his hand over the boy's thick hair and watched as he fell  
under, then glanced over at the entrance to the scanning room. He needed  
to go, but--

God, he had never felt this damn useless in his life.

His feet felt frozen to the floor as he stared down at the small boy  
lying in the cot. He was surrounded by sick people that needed him, but  
the only one he could focus on was Lewin. The logical part of his brain  
shouted at him that the boy was out and wouldn't know if he were left  
alone, but something deeper than that held him steadfastly to the boy's  
side.

"I'll watch him for you," Brother Lum said, coming up from behind him.

"Thank you." Julian said, trying to shake off the whirlpool of emotions  
threatening to overwhelm him as he stood up.

"It's different when it's your own child, isn't it?" Lum said with a  
knowing look. "Go do your job. I won't leave the boy, I promise."

"I--" Julian almost pointed out that Lewin was just his patient, not his  
child, but instead he found himself merely nodding gratefully before  
heading to the back of the tent. When he entered the room, Girani was  
adjusting the controls on the biofield as Jake watched nervously from  
the corner.

"I don't know what's happening," she said, glancing at him. "Her scans  
were all fine this morning."

"Have you had a chance to scan her again yet?"

"No." Girani stepped aside as Julian wheeled over the neuroscanner,  
helping him ready the machine.

When the first pictures appeared they both gasped.

"What the--" Girani started.

Jake rushed out of the corner. "What? What's happening? Is it the virus?  
What?"

"It's mutated again? But it was dead--we saw it!" Girani insisted.

"It wasn't dead," Julian said grimly as he magnified the image.

The small monster they had thought was dead and buried had clawed its  
way out of the grave with a vengeance. Pulsating with raw, crimson  
energy, the virus had more than just adapted; it had gone through a  
complete metamorphosis.

"Did you take a blood sample before putting her in stasis?" Julian asked.

"Yes," Girani said, handing him a slide.

Julian took it over to the powerful electron microscope Krath had given  
them and looked closely at the resilient little nanovirus.

My God, Julian thought as he stared down at it: the bastard who created  
it wasn't just a genius, he was a true sociopath.

Ripples of energy pulsated through the virions as they divided at an  
exponential rate. There was no subtlety to its design any more; it was  
merely a killer tearing through anything that got in its way. Julian  
shut his eyes and leaned his head against the cool metal of the  
microscope as he tried to think. It had been a trap, he realized with  
sick certainty. In his eagerness to rid Ziyal of her illness he had  
jumped at the first opening he had found and administered the  
White-based drug, and by doing so had fallen right into the bastard's trap.

He got up from the desk and went back to the neuroscanner, setting it  
for maximum magnification, Girani behind him attempting to calm Jake  
down. He blocked the sounds of their voices and concentrated all his  
energy on what he was seeing.

Focus, Julian told himself - and then there was no sound, no room, no  
Ziyal or Jake or Girani. It was just him and the virus.

The running data stream beside the image seemed like a flash of  
undulating gold as the computer attempted to keep up with the  
information it was receiving from the tiny fractals. The virions were  
communicating with one another, Julian realized. No longer acting like  
just another virus, it was now behaving more like a tiny Borg  
collective. He reached for his tricorder and scanned Ziyal through the  
stasis field.

"What is it?" Girani asked.

"Have Perreira bring in Lewin."

A few minutes later Lewin, still unconscious from the hypo, was laid  
down in the biobed near Ziyal's stasis cocoon. When the scan was  
complete the images that came back merely confirmed what Julian had  
already guessed.

"What's the situation outside?" he asked.

"We have things under control for now," Perreira said. "All of the  
hybrids are down and several of the pure-blooded Bajorans are exhibiting  
severe symptoms. The ones who aren't as ill are helping. We've sedated  
the ones stricken the worst and we've given the rest hypos for their  
fever and nausea."

Julian nodded. "How's Krath?"

"Hanging in there," Perreira said. "He was one of the first to exhibit  
abdominal pain and fever but he refused to stay in bed until he had no  
other choice. Okuna just gave him a hypo for the fever and sedated him.  
He's sleeping comfortably now." He paused. "Doctor, Garak wanted me to  
ask you if he could come in. He wants to sit with Lewin while you  
examine him if that's all right."

"Send him in." Perreira left and Julian turned to Girani. "How's Ziyal?"

"She's stabilized; the stasis is holding."

"Go see if Perreira and Okuna need help then start taking blood samples  
from everyone--and I mean everyone."

"Got it."

Julian looked up at her. "How are you feeling?"

Girani avoided looking at him directly. "I'll make it."

"Not good enough," Julian said.

"My temp is up and I'm feeling a little nauseated but I can handle it,"  
she said firmly.

"Have Okuna check you out and give you something for the symptoms," he  
ordered. "I need you on the floor, but if you start to get worse I need  
you to know when to stop. I know you're a work horse, Girani, but I  
can't risk having you fall down during a procedure. If you feel faint,  
take yourself out of the game, understood?"

"I took a hypo earlier. I should be okay."

"The second it gets bad, Girani--I want your word or I relieve you now."

She nodded.

"Go."

She headed out the door and Julian turned to Jake. "Jake--"

"I'm not leaving Ziyal," he said stubbornly.

"Jake, I know you want to stay by her side, but I need your help--Ziyal  
needs your help," Julian said evenly. "Most of the Bajorans are down and  
that only leaves you, me, Okuna, Perreira, and Garak who are immune. I  
need you to help them out on the floor."

Jake rubbed his hand across his mouth and looked down at his wife.  
"You'll let me know if she gets worse, right?"

"I promise."

He shuffled his feet slightly, still obviously reluctant to leave her  
side. "I don't have any medical training."

"Okuna and Perreira will show you what to do." Julian said just as the  
door opened again and Garak stepped through. "Even if all you do is  
change sheets and replicate broth, that will help."

"Okay, I--I'll do what I can." Jake leaned over and looked through the  
field into Ziyal's too-still face. "I love you, Zee. I'll be back soon."

Garak laid a hand on Jake's shoulder as the young man passed him and  
squeezed it reassuringly. Jake looked at him then back at Julian and left.

"How is he?" Garak asked, moving to stand beside Lewin who was still  
unconscious and lying under the neuroscanner.

"I don't know," Julian said wearily.

Garak turned on him. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"Damn it, I mean I don't know!" he snapped back, allowing his  
frustration to show for the first time since he arrived on the scene.  
"I've been here as long as you have and I just--" Julian rubbed his eyes  
and winced as his temples began to throb. "All I have are--suppositions  
and theories at this point."

Garak's jaw unclenched and he seemed to take a moment to get his anger  
under control before focusing back on Julian. "Talk it through with me  
then. What do you think is happening?"

"What do I think?" Julian typed a command into the scanner and brought  
up the images of Ziyal's most recent scans. He isolated the different  
images and compared them side by side. "This," he said as he pointed to  
the first image, "is the original virus. This is the virus after she was  
administered the vaccine. This," and he pointed to a third image which  
was radically different from the other two, "is what we saw when we  
scanned her after she lapsed into a coma."

Garak frowned. "It appears to have undergone a metamorphosis of some sort."

"Exactly," Julian said. "My theory, if it can even be called that, is  
that when we administered the drug, instead of killing the virus like we  
assumed it would, it merely caused the virus to go dormant until it  
reemerged as this new virus."

"Whoever our mysterious adversaries are they're brilliant, I'll give  
them that," Garak said. "Make it so the virus only causes minor  
irritations and symptoms which gradually worsen over time until some  
clever doctor finds it and figures out what it is. The second the  
correct chemical is introduced, the trap is sprung."

"I should have known better," Julian said, gritting his teeth. "I should  
have seen it coming!"

"How could you have?" Garak said grimly.

"I don't know." He looked down at Lewin and smoothed his hair. "I was  
too damned rushed, too arrogant, and now they're paying for it."

"Blaming yourself will get us nowhere," Garak said, looking down at the  
boy as well. He glanced up at Julian with a frown. "I understand why  
Ziyal is ill, but why Lewin and the rest? Only Ziyal received the vaccine."

Julian thought about that for a moment. "We know that the nanovirus is  
based partly on Borg biotechnology. The Borg communicate as a collective  
by receiving electrical impulses through a cranial transceiver."

"If we subjected the virus to some sort of EM field, would--"

"No," Julian said, cutting him off and typing a command into the  
scanner. "That's not what's happening here. If I'm right, though, even  
though the virus was dormant it was still able to be passed on. The  
dormant viruses would activate, seek out any earlier incarnations of  
itself, and signal the other virions to go into a dormant state as well.  
Why the Bajoran and hybrid immune systems didn't catch the dormant  
virions I don't know, but I do know that Lewin has the exact same virus  
as Ziyal--the new virus. I suspect they all do."

"A domino effect," Garak interjected.

"Exactly."

The screen above Lewin's bed flashed with golden streams of information  
as he showed Garak what was happening inside his son's body. "See?  
They're definitely making a coordinated attack. This damn thing is a  
powerhouse. Lewin is young and healthy; that's a plus, but the way this  
is going through his system..." He sighed.

"Can you reverse the damage if we find a cure?"

"Right now? Yes. Later? I don't know. Science can only do so much. At  
this rate Lewin has perhaps two weeks before his system is permanently  
compromised. Ziyal is already in a coma and her viral load is enormous.  
Even if we found the cure within the next day her immune system will  
never be the same again. She'll need multiple organ transplants to start  
with and we can't do that while she's pregnant. The only reason we  
aren't discussing termination is because the baby is infected as well  
and we can't risk unleashing the human strain of the virus." He laid his  
hand on Lewin's forehead and gazed down at the sleeping boy. "I'm out of  
ideas, Garak. Girani is infected and there are sixty-four patients and  
only three doctors left once she goes down. Despite the new equipment  
we're understaffed and underequipped and out of time. We can keep Ziyal  
stable in stasis for two, maybe three days if we're lucky. Within a week  
or two, all of them are going to be in comas: then what?"

"Call Shakaar," Garak said. "Ask him to contact Starfleet and request  
emergency medical assistance. "Humans aren't affected by this, at least  
not yet. Have them come down in protective suits if that's what it takes."

Julian nodded as he walked over to the comm unit at the small desk and  
waited for it to connect. "Shakaar."

//Dr. Bashir. How can I help you?//

"There's been a serious development here."

Julian gave Shakaar a quick rundown of all the facts. When he was done  
he said, "We need you to ask Starfleet to send a medical team to assist  
us before this thing starts killing people."

Shakaar's expression was grim. //I'm afraid I can't do that, doctor.//

"Why not?" Julian asked with a scowl.

//The head of the conservative opposition has called an emergency Senate  
vote on whether or not Bajor should break off talks with the Federation  
and demand that they abandon Deep Space Nine.//

"That's ridiculous! That will leave the Alpha Quadrant wide open to  
Dominion attack!"

//Representative Kresti and his party are arguing that the Dominion only  
targeted Bajor because of our relationship with the Federation,//  
Shakaar said wearily. //Their position is that if we cut ties now and  
send our own representatives to discuss a treaty with the Dominion, our  
people will be safe from attack. The evangelicals are jumping on board  
as well. After Minister Krath informed me that the virus had already  
spread beyond the monastery, several clinics and hospitals began to send  
in reports that they had treated patients exhibiting its symptoms.  
Someone leaked it to the Bajoran press and they posted it this morning.  
The radicals within the Bajora Communion are claiming this is a sign  
that the Eagle Prophesy is coming to pass, especially as it is affecting  
the hybrid population and those working closest to them first.//

"The what?"

Garak, who had moved away from Lewin's biobed to listen to their  
conversation, stepped forward and spoke into the monitor. "Admittedly, I  
am still just a penitent of the faith, but I was under the impression  
that Kai Kavus had denounced the Eagle Prophesy and the Court of Valaria  
ordered that it stop being cited because it had never been substantiated  
as a legitimate religious text."

//He did, and while I'm here preparing my arguments before the Senate,  
Vedek Merel is petitioning the High Council to reconvene the Court of  
Valaria so they can settle this once and for all and silence the  
evangelicals, otherwise...// Shakaar sighed. //This thing is turning  
into a huge mess. Major Kira just commed me and said some of the more  
radical conservatives are starting to protest on the Promenade again.  
Tensions are already high up there--and now this? Next there will be  
more rioting and this time it will be on a much larger scale than just a  
few drunks tossing their glasses at storefronts.//

"I didn't realize the situation on Deep Space Nine was that bad," Julian  
said.

//I understand it didn't get to this point until after your colleagues  
were forced to leave, but yes, it's rather tense up there. If Captain  
Sisko doesn't return soon and lend his voice as Emissary to mine,  
Representative Kresti may have his way.//

"I'm sure the more vocal conservatives are seeing his current absence as  
a happy coincidence," Julian said with a scowl. "In fact, I imagine that  
Kai Winn is defending the prophesy at the top of her lungs if it means  
seeing the back of Captain Sisko and the rest of us."

//Actually, no,// Shakaar said. //For once Merel and Winn are on the  
same side. The Kai, despite her feelings toward the Emissary, is openly  
chastising the members of her order who are spreading this prophesy  
around as though it were a call to arms.//

"Politics aside, we desperately need help, First Minister," Garak told  
him. "This is a matter of most urgency."

//I understand that but officially I can't make the request. My party  
would have my head right now if I did. I suspect Representative Kresti  
and his ilk would see it as grounds to start impeachment proceedings  
against me. However, if one of you bypassed channels and made the  
request yourselves, it would be out of my hands.//

"Understood," Garak said reluctantly.

//Good luck.//

Garak switched off the monitor and turned to Julian. "Can you call in  
any favors with Starfleet Medical?"

"I can try," Julian said. "What is this 'Eagle Prophesy' anyway?"

"The Eagle Prophesy is from a text called 'The Eaglet Orb' that was  
written by Zocol. It's always been rather controversial because even  
though it was deemed unsubstantiated by the Court of Valaria, many have  
argued that it foretold the Cardassian Invasion, proving its legitimacy.  
In it the noble white eagle that protects the skies of Bajor is attacked  
by a red eagle. The battle lasts for many days and nights, during which  
the red eagle lays a black egg. From it hatches a great pestilence that  
sweeps throughout the land. The birds struggle for control as the land  
is consumed by death. They battle and fall and from their remains a  
third bird appears, which is made of fire. Supposedly his war cry will  
summon forth an Emissary to cleanse Bajor. Poetic nonsense at best,  
divisive twaddle at worst. Every so often the passage is brought up and  
manipulated by someone with an agenda."

"So why is Winn siding with Merel on this? For that matter, why isn't  
she leading the battle cry?" Julian asked. "She's no fan of the  
Federation and I imagine she feels the same about the hybrids."

"I don't know," Garak said. "and as fascinating as exploring those  
questions may be, we need to leave them for Shakaar and Merel to deal  
with. Right now we need help and fast."

"I'll comm Admiral Quinn now," Julian said. "I don't know if she'll  
honor the request given the state of the Federation's diplomatic  
relations with Bajor right now but it's our only chance."

"We can at least try. I'll continue helping outside. As soon as you're  
finished examining Lewin I'll have Minister Krath sent in, then Brother  
Danna."

"Good."

Garak walked over to Lewin's bedside and kissed the boy gently on the  
forehead. "Take care of him."

"I will."

Garak nodded and walked out the door as Julian punched in the code for  
Starbase 375. As he waited for the comm unit to connect, he looked at  
the chrono and made some rough calculations. If they were lucky and the  
Admiral agreed to help, they could have a team here within four hours or  
so. He only hoped that they would be here in time.


	9. The Good of the Many

CHAPTER NINE: The Good of the Many

 

Captain Figueiredo looked at her husband's shirt and grinned. "Need a   
bib, babe?"

Alvaro wiped at his front with a napkin and shrugged. "It's my work   
shirt; no one will notice a little barbecue sauce amongst the paint   
splatters anyway. Speaking of which, that starscape I'm doing of the   
wormhole is coming along nicely. After I'm done I'm thinking of giving   
it to Ben then painting another for the gallery."

"I can't wait to see it," Fig said as she cut into a tender piece of   
brisket. "I also can't wait for Ben to get back to the station. This   
situation is getting ridiculous. Apparently the Bajoran Ministry is   
debating whether or not to 'evict' Starfleet from the station because of   
that stunt MacKelroy pulled."

"Which is why, I'm assuming, we're eating in your office instead of the   
mess hall?" Alvaro asked.

"I have to be here when the comm comes in." As if on cue her monitor   
chirped. "Speak of the devil--" She wiped her mouth on her napkin and   
answered the comm. "Admiral?"

//We have a problem,// Admiral Gilhouley said, his expression grim.

"We haven't heard back from the Major on the voting results yet, sir,"   
Fig said with a frown. "First Minister Shakaar intends to--"

//This isn't about the Bajoran Ministry's voting results, not   
entirely,// Gilhouley said. //Are you alone?//

Fig glanced up at her husband who got up from his seat reluctantly.   
"Guess I'll finish eating in the mess hall after all."

"Thank you," Fig said with an apologetic glance.

"All part of being married to a powerful woman," Alvaro said with a wink   
just before the doors shut behind him.

She turned back to the monitor. "We're alone," she said.

//I assume you've heard about the virus sweeping through Bajor?//

"My medical staff was working on the problem from up here, but last I'd   
heard Dr. Bashir had the situation under control," Fig said with a frown.

//You heard wrong. Less than two hours ago Bashir contacted Admiral   
Quinn at Starbase 375 saying that the virus had gone through a   
metamorphosis of some sort and the situation down there was escalating.   
Ten minutes after that, all the reports he sent her were leaked to the   
press by someone on her staff. Now I'm not saying Ross was responsible   
for that--//

"But it's his home port," Fig finished for him.

//Exactly. And let's just say that the news of a mutagenic virus with no   
known cure or treatment protocol that spreads quickly and appears to be   
both Founder and Borg in nature made quite a splash with the networks.   
You can't turn on the damn holvid without hearing the latest pop culture   
quack ranting about it at the top of their lungs!//

"Shit."

//In a word,// Gilhouley said. //Where they find these people so fast is   
beyond me. What's worse is that because of this mess the UFP is   
convening an emergency meeting. Admiral Quinn is expected to testify   
before the Security Council via subspace on not only how the information   
was leaked from her offices but as to what this would mean to the Alpha   
Quadrant should it go beyond Bajoran Space. From what I understand, it   
is highly likely that the virus can adapt itself to infect different   
species and that Dr. Bashir has reason to believe that humans may be next.//

"Well, what are they going to do? Send relief ships to Bajor?" Fig asked   
with a frown.

//They're sending ships all right. The USS Louis Pasteur, the USS Jonas   
Salk, and Abramson's coming your way on the Titan.//

"Why is the Titan coming along?" she asked in confusion. "What aren't   
you telling me, Fitz?"

//This information stays need to know, Figueiredo; are we clear?//

"As crystal."

Gilhouley's jaw clenched. //Levine gave me the heads up. This virus has   
the eggheads in HQ pretty damn spooked. They've never seen anything like   
it before and even though they've only had a couple of hours to run the   
scenarios, they're saying that not only could it infect humans but,   
given enough time, it could potentially infect every known species   
susceptible to viral infection.//

"I don't think I like where you're heading with this, Fitz."

//The feeds we've been getting from the Bajoran press seem to gel with   
what Bashir said in his report. The infection has spread throughout   
Bajor although only those infected within the monastery are showing   
signs of the secondary phase of this disease. However, this new strain   
of the virus coupled with the fact that Bajor is threatening to go to   
the Dominion with a treaty have forced the UFP to consider extreme   
measures.//

"Extreme--? How extreme are we talking about?"

//The Security Council plans to go before the General Assembly with a   
resolution to enact the Phoenix Protocol.//

"I'm...not familiar with it," she said with a frown.

//I don't expect you to be. It's not something the UFP likes to see   
taught at the Academy. It's the end game, Fig. We've basically been   
ordered to put on a smiley face for the Provisional Government while we   
quarantine Bajor, its moons, and everyone infected on DS9. The   
uninfected will be evacuated and once that is done, the UFP General   
Assembly will hear the resolution. If they approve it by unanimous vote,   
Command will then green light the order to begin the destruction of Bajor.//

"You've got to be shitting me!" Fig burst out.

//The good of the many,// Gilhouley said, looking equally disgusted.   
//Levine is trying to stall by saying that nothing should be decided   
until after the Peace Conference, so they can get the Romulans and the   
Klingons to put in their votes so as not to run into any problems later.   
If they do this it has to be with the consent of all the Federation   
representatives and our allies.//

"So someone has told Sisko about this?" Fig asked.

//No. The longer the Conference remains sequestered the better. Think   
about it: The Romulans are as practical as the Vulcan scientists who   
came up with this scenario in the first place. If there is even a chance   
that their people are in danger, they'll just skip the UFP assembly and   
firebomb the hell out of that planet themselves. As for the Klingons,   
they might not like the idea of killing a whole planet full of   
unsuspecting civilians, but they'll see the creators of this thing as   
the real killers and their bug as nothing more than a cowardly act of   
terrorism.//

"This is bullshit," Fig said, rubbing her hand over her mouth and   
thinking hard. "So they aren't even going to try to find a cure? And   
what about Ross and Section 31?"

//They've begun on it. Believe me, no one is going to vote to pull the   
trigger on Bajor except as a last resort. They're keeping this as quiet   
as possible and issuing statements to the press saying that the reports   
are overly exaggerated and that Bajor is merely dealing with a   
drug-resistant form of meningitis. Meanwhile, every infectious disease   
expert in Starfleet is looking at the information Bashir sent and trying   
to figure something out but there's only so much they can do. We can't   
let Bashir or anyone on Bajor know about what's happening on our end,   
just in case.//

"And Ross?" she repeated.

//As soon as word got out about the Bajoran Ministry calling a vote on   
cutting ties with the Federation, Ross resigned citing 'health   
reasons',// Gilhouley said with a snort. //Meanwhile Vice Admiral   
Fujisaki, the Deputy Chief of Starfleet Intelligence, plans on   
testifying that no such agency called 'Section 31' exists and then he'll   
trot out his own experts who will point out that the more likely   
culprits are the Dominion and that the possibility exists that they may   
have allied themselves with the Borg to create it. There is some   
evidence which suggests the Borg could have hives in the Gamma as well   
as the Delta Quadrant.//

"The Borg don't unleash viruses; they assimilate live people for their   
collective!"

//They are seeing what they want to see, Captain. No one, and I mean no   
one, on the Security Council wants to acknowledge that this thing was   
thought up by our own people. Someone could show up at the General   
Assembly flashing a Section 31 ID badge and they'd just haul him off for   
a long rest at some funny farm on Betazed until he forgot about it.//

"That's crap!"

//That's real life and no one ever said the Federation was a Utopian   
paradise filled with love and smiley faces, Figueiredo. If it were then   
we would have figured out a way to get rid of the damn politicians and   
divorce lawyers years ago. We've got our orders to begin phase one.   
Officially it's being done as a preventative measure so the Council   
doesn't need anyone's approval for anything yet. Abramson will be there   
in two hours with the other ships. You are to coordinate with Major Kira   
and tell her they are here to offer assistance. Have her cease all   
traffic coming in and out of the station and then the doctors on the   
Pasteur and the Salk will begin testing everyone for the virus and   
transfer the unaffected to their ships. Meanwhile they'll tell Bashir   
they can't go to the surface until given permission by the Bajoran   
government but that they'll offer what help they can while in orbit. If   
word comes down, you and Abramson will wait until the last of the   
uninfected are transported off DS9, then launch a two pronged attack.   
You're to take out the station and then you and Abramson, working   
together, will take out Bajor.//

"My people aren't going to like the idea of killing our own allies, Fitz."

//If the orders come down they won't have a choice. None of us will.//

"And you'd be willing to do that if ordered to, Admiral?" Fig said,   
challenging him.

//I've had to do a lot of things I haven't liked because that's what I   
was ordered to do, Figueiredo,// Gilhouley said in a hard voice. //When   
we signed over Federation colonies to the Cardassians and established   
the DMZ, I knew it was bullshit right then and there. When Picard tried   
to get those colonists to relocate and they all refused I *knew* they   
were headed for trouble. Sure enough, the Cardassians 'generously'   
offered to let them stay and they jumped on it. They were warned but   
they didn't listen. I mean, Jesus Christ, of course the Cardies were   
planning to renege on the deal! Picard knew it, I knew it: hell,   
everyone knew it! When the Cardassians started attacking those   
settlements, Starfleet should have taken that as a violation of the   
peace treaty and gone back to finish the job we started, but they   
didn't. Instead they just decided to write off those colonists a second   
time. When the order came down from Headquarters stating that the   
colonists were considered to be defectors and could no longer expect   
Federation protection, I saw men--good men and women who I had trained   
and worked with--resign to join the Maquis. I can't say I blamed them at   
the time either. Despite that, I did my job. I didn't just go through   
the motions like a lot of others did, then pat myself on the back like I   
had done something noble. I arrested them and I denounced them as   
traitors to the Federation as I was ordered to do. I hauled my friends   
off to prison and I did it with a clear conscience. I took this position   
knowing that I'd be called on to do things that may not jibe with what I   
find morally acceptable, but I knew then, just as I know now, that the   
job I do serves the greater good. If this virus gets loose it could   
potentially wipe out the entire Alpha Quadrant. That means you, me, and   
everybody else. I agree that Bashir's theory about Section 31 has   
definite possibilities but if it did get loose then the Founders will   
have taken us out without firing a single shot. I can't ignore that and   
neither can you. Are you willing to risk the lives of every man, woman,   
and child in the Federation by refusing this order, Captain?//

"No, sir," Figueiredo said quickly.

//Me neither.// Gilhouley sighed. //This is a shitty assignment, Fig.   
I'm sorry you're the one who got stuck with it, but I trust you to do   
what needs to be done. Frankly I'd rather face a line of Borg cubes   
loaded for bear than a room full of politicians and spin doctors but I   
have to stay put. I'm hoping that I might just have enough gold on my   
collar to make the right people listen to me before this thing escalates   
into something real damn unfixable.//

"I understand what you're saying, Boss."

//Do you?// Gilhouley asked.

"You drilled it into all of us from day one, Skip: do the job; live   
until retirement. I haven't managed to forget it yet, have I?"

//You're still breathing, that's true. Still, even I recognize that this   
is some goddamn irregular shit we're dealing with. The only reason I'm   
still feeling pretty damn cool and confident is because I know you’re up   
there when I have to be down here. Figueiredo, you are the best   
defensive player I have in my line up, and that's no bullshit.//

"Seriously?" Fig grinned despite the heavy feeling in her chest. "That's   
a hell of a compliment, Skip. I figured you and Abramson have closed   
enough bars together over the years that he'd be your quarterback in   
this shit storm."

//Abramson's who I send in when I need a bulldog, but you're who I use   
when I need cool reasoning and diplomacy with just enough kick ass to   
make things interesting. Right now I need a friendly face up there to   
keep the locals cool. That said, we've been in enough dogfights together   
that you should have learned by now that diplomacy only goes so far. If   
you can't handle the follow through should the order come down and the   
clock is on the last tick, you hand off to Abramson, understood?//

"Admiral--" She began with a frown.

//Dammit! Don't interrupt me or start in on that female empowerment   
shit! This isn't because you can't piss standing up, Fig--if I was in   
your place and that order came down my hand would be trembling on the   
trigger, too! Hell, I expect that Abramson will be crying like a baby   
for a month--if this shit hasn't already convinced him to retire, then   
nothing will!// He paused for a moment, his jaw clenching as he looked   
down at his desk, unable to meet her eyes. //I've been sick in my gut   
since I heard about this and I'm not ashamed to say it, but if I were   
there I know that in the end I'd still pull the trigger. Just like I   
know Butch will, just like I know you will, too. If I'm wrong, tell me   
now and I promise you it will not affect my opinion of you as an officer   
nor will it go on your record that you refused. I still have enough time   
to send someone else up there to back up Abramson.//

Fig considered his words carefully. "Can I ask you a question first?   
Before I decide?"

//Shoot.//

"What did Abramson say when you told him?"

//Nothing at first.// Gilhouley said looking her in the eye. //He just   
sat there for a minute then took out his wallet and showed me pictures   
of his grandbaby. For a minute there I thought I'd finally managed to   
crack his nut.//

"Which one?" Fig asked.

//The newest one--Amelia, I think. I can never keep up with them all.   
After five minutes of staring at that picture, he said that as hard a   
thing as this was, he couldn't risk losing his family to some damn virus   
just because he couldn't man up and do what needed to be done before it   
got that far.//

"I don't know, Skip. Personally I can't picture Abramson going along   
with this 'final solution' the Security Council is pushing on Bajor."   
She shook her head, "Eating an occasional BLT is one thing, but   
something like this..."

//Abramson agreed to do it because we're doing it for the right reasons.   
We're not the Nazis persecuting the Jews; we're not committing genocide   
for the hell of it. This virus has already spread through Bajor like   
wildfire. With the wormhole right there and Bajor being in the center of   
some major trade routes for several planets, there's no way we could   
enforce a long term quarantine. It would get out and it would spread in   
a matter of months to every man, woman, and child from Bajor to Earth.   
He knows that, do you? Speak now, Figueiredo. Last chance.//

She considered that for a moment, then sighed. "I guess if a powderpuff   
like Butch Abramson can take this assignment then so can I."

Gilhouley nodded. //I promise I'll hold up my end of things and keep you   
informed on what's happening here in the meantime. Hopefully the brains   
will pull this one out of the fire; if not, you could have about a week   
before the orders come down. Could be a little more than that, but I   
doubt it. The rumor is that the Peace Summit is drawing to a close and   
once that happens...//

"That's not a whole lot of time."

//No, it's not. I know you're a rock, Fig, but can your people hold up?//

"Everyone on my crew is solid," she said. "If not, then when the smoke   
clears the UFP can just send us all to Betazed for a nice long   
therapeutic vacation."

//You got it. I'll see to it they include the complementary   
straitjackets and rubber rooms with a view in their vacation package.   
Personally, I prefer to get my therapy on Risa.//

She grinned. "I hear that. Until the guys with the butterfly nets come   
knocking on our door, Skip, we're five by five, SSDD down here. You can   
relax."

//Same shit, different day; I read you,// he replied. //Good luck, Fig.   
Gilhouley out.//

Fig sat back in her chair, her smile fading like her appetite despite   
the happy face she had put on for her commanding officer. He knew it,   
too. Gilhouley wasn't stupid. She was willing to bet that the second the   
comm monitor went black so had his mood.

Fuck, she thought. Three billion people. Three billion people spread   
throughout Bajor and its moons, many of whom she had gotten to know   
personally, might be sentenced to die and she had been chosen to be   
their executioner.

"These are the voyages of the USS Venture and its ongoing mission: to   
seek out and bomb the shit out of unsuspecting, innocent civilians. Can   
you live with that?" she asked her reflection on the darkened comm   
monitor. "Can you look Benjamin Sisko in the face and tell him that   
along with every Bajoran he once knew, you also pulled the trigger on   
his son, his son's girlfriend, and their unborn child without at least   
trying to save them first?" She shook her head, "No. Not going to   
happen, girlfriend: not on your watch." She hit her comm badge.   
"Figueiredo to Marquez."

//Marquez.//

"I need you and Lt. Commander Xerk to come my office immediately."

//Yes sir. Marquez out.//

As she waited for her first officer, Figueiredo began to plan out her   
next move.

 

******

 

Mitch MacKelroy was a big man: six foot nine and 250 pounds of pure   
muscle. He obviously prided himself on his physical strength. Compared   
to Galophile Xerk, though, he was a puny weakling.

At nearly nine feet tall, the native of Dalpernius XII towered over him,   
his beefy fist slamming into the Commander and sending him crashing into   
the wall of his cell.

As soon as MacKelroy could breathe again he spit out a mouthful of blood   
and growled at the man standing on the other side of the force field   
behind his attacker. "I'll have you court-martialed for this! You and   
your captain!"

"If you live that long," Commander Marquez said blithely as he nodded at   
his tactical officer.

Xerk grabbed MacKelroy by the neck and slammed him against the wall,   
squeezing slowly until his eyes began to bug out from their sockets.

As MacKelroy choked and clawed at the large purple-fleshed alien's hand,   
Marquez smirked. "That looks a mite uncomfortable, MacKelroy. Tell me   
what I want to know and I'll see to it he lets you breathe."

"F-uck you!" MacKelroy gurgled.

"That's not very nice," Marquez said just before Xerk drew MacKelroy   
back like he was heaving a baseball and bounced him off the wall.   
MacKelroy's head slammed into the metal wall; he landed face first onto   
the floor with a loud crack.

When Xerk picked him up by his hair, blood poured from the man's now   
obviously broken nose. "Keep this up and the ladies won't think you're   
pretty anymore."

"This--" MacKelroy coughed as he clutched at Xerk's hand. "This is   
illegal! I'm an officer of the--"

Xerk backhanded him, sending two of his teeth skidding across the floor.   
"Keep going, asshole," Xerk said in an incredibly deep voice. "I can   
keep this up as long as you can."

"Tell us about Section 31," Marquez ordered.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" MacKelroy protested.

"Xerk."

"With pleasure," Xerk said before picking MacKelroy up by his hair and   
slinging him across the room where he bounced off of the cell's   
electrified force field. MacKelroy screamed and landed in a heap while   
the alien brushed his hands off, causing several strands of the   
Commander's hair to fall gently to the ground. "If I had known how messy   
this was going to get I would have changed out of my uniform."

Marquez shrugged. "If the 'fresher doesn't get the blood out you can   
always just replicate a new one."

"True."

"H-help!" MacKelroy yelled, scrambling to his knees. "Somebody help me!"

"Nobody's coming," Marquez said from the other side of the field. "And   
if you don't start talking I'll be forced to tell Xerk to start getting   
really rough."

Xerk approached MacKelroy again. The commander got to his feet and swung   
at the alien blindly; Xerk grabbed his wrist with his left hand, then   
curled his right arm and brought his elbow down, breaking the bones of   
MacKelroy's forearm with an audible snap. MacKelroy screamed as Xerk   
released him, clutching his now-useless arm against his chest.

"I'm getting bored now," the alien said, turning toward Marquez. "Let's   
take this guy into the airlock and play 'how long can you hold your   
breath' for a while."

"What do you think, MacKelroy?" Marquez asked. "That sound like fun to you?"

"I don't know anything!" MacKelroy yelled.

"I don't think that's true," Marquez said easily. "Your Uncle Billy   
seems to be tight with Section 31 and since you two are so close, the   
way I figure it you have to know something. Just give me a name and this   
can all end with a smile and a visit with the doc. She might even give   
you a lollipop if you're a really good boy."

"You'll all go to prison for this!" MacKelroy spat out. "There is no   
such thing as Section 31!"

"Hmmm, you know Xerk, maybe he's right." Marquez said turning back to   
MacKelroy.

"Could be. You want to end the interrogation?"

"We're not getting anywhere. Might as well." Marquez took out his side   
arm and with an audible click set it to maximum.

"What are you doing?" MacKelroy asked, watching him.

"As soon as the field goes down make sure to move out of the way,"   
Marquez said to Xerk.

"Wait--what are you doing? You're going to kill me?!?" MacKelroy screeched.

"Well, we can't have you filing any reports on this, can we? It wouldn't   
look good on our records."

"My wife would be mad and I can't have that. Sorry," Xerk said with a   
huge smile that showed off his double row of razor-sharp teeth.   
MacKelroy backed away from him, his knees beginning to shake as sweat   
broke out all over his face.

Marquez blew on his phaser and polished it with his sleeve. "Of course,   
if you knew something we'd have to keep you alive to testify, but since   
you don't--"

"Sloan!" MacKelroy shouted.

"And Sloan would be...?"

"I don't know anything about a Section 31--"

"Oh, well in that case--" Marquez said, reaching for the controls to the   
field.

"--but I overheard Ross talking to a guy he called Sloan over the comm   
unit!" MacKelroy said quickly. "He was calling from Deep Space Nine and   
he told Ross 'it's done' and hung up."

Marquez shot him a look. "When was that?"

"Three months ago! Then just last week Ross ordered me to go back to the   
station and have the Tobin take Sloan back with them when they dropped   
me off! That's all I know, I swear!"

"Did Section 31 have anything to do with the virus on Bajor?" Marquez asked.

"I don't know! You have to believe me; I was just following Ross's orders!"

"Sloan?"

"Sloan, yes!" MacKelroy shouted. "He's human, tall, blond, in his   
forties--he'll be on the surveillance footage! Just go look--please!"

Marquez hit the panel and the field went down. He leveled his phaser   
toward MacKelroy and cocked his head at Xerk who stepped out of the   
cell. He let MacKelroy cower for a moment before he hit the panel again   
to activate the field. "I'm going to check the feeds, MacKelroy, but if   
it turns out this 'Sloan' doesn't exist we're coming back and if we do I   
can promise you our next conversation won't be as pleasant as this one   
was." He looked down at the other man's uniform and smirked. "I'll tell   
the doc to bring you a fresh uniform. The one you're wearing is probably   
going to start getting ripe soon."

"Oops," Xerk said, glancing at him through the field. "All you had to do   
was tell me you had to go to the bathroom. We're not unreasonable men,   
you know."

MacKelroy said nothing; he simply clutched his arm tighter to his chest   
and trembled with a mixture of fear and rage.

"See you Mitch."

The two officers left the brig and walked towards the turbolift. "Think   
he was bullshitting us?" Marquez asked.

Xerk glanced at him before taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to   
wipe the blood off of his knuckles. "Maybe. Don't think so though. Are   
you going to go debrief the captain?"

"Yep. Go back to your quarters and change, then start going through the   
feeds."

"I hope this was worth it," Xerk sighed. "If we're wrong and I wind up   
court-martialed for beating the shit out of a superior officer my wife   
really will kill me."

Marquez shot him a look. "Penny is at least a foot shorter than I am and   
all of a hundred and forty pounds. I doubt she can do a whole lot of   
damage."

"That's what you think," Xerk rumbled. "Four days out of the month that   
woman could take on a squadron of rampaging Klingons and win. And just   
to let you know, if you ever have to guess at her weight again, go with   
one-ten. One time I glanced at her ID and made the mistake of commenting   
that it seemed to me to be a rather low figure. She nearly tore my nuts   
off with her bare hands."

Marquez adjusted himself in sympathy. "God, I'm glad I'm single."

 

*****

 

"Sloan."

//Never heard of him,// Gilhouley said with a frown.

"MacKelroy said he commed Ross from DS9 three months ago. Marquez and   
Xerk went through the station's security footage and found an image that   
could be him." She transmitted it to his computer.

Gilhouley examined it for a moment. //I'll make discreet inquiries on my   
end. How'd you get him to talk?//

"Just old-fashioned courtesy--combined with a little teamwork from two   
of my senior officers."

//Uh huh. Just make sure the bruises are healed and the medical logs are   
expunged before MacKelroy says anything different.//

"Has the UFP come back with anything yet?"

//No, but Levine called me during the break. It's not looking good for   
Bajor.//

*****

Later that evening as Julian was going over the last of the blood tests,   
Garak walked through his office door, his face grim.

"What is it?" Julian said, looking up from his desk. "Lewin? Okuna   
didn't say anything when he dropped off his status report--"

"It isn't Lewin," Garak said as he closed the door firmly behind him,   
then locked it.

"What?" Julian asked, watching him from narrowed eyes.

"I stopped by my quarters after Lewin and the others were stabilized. As   
you know, I've been monitoring all Cardassian transmissions in the   
sector. What you don't know is that I've also taken up the habit of   
monitoring any encoded Starfleet transmissions as well."

"Garak! If anyone found out, you'd be--" Julian began.

"I was protecting my own interests, doctor." Garak said, cutting him   
off. "I didn't leave the station under the best of circumstances. I   
noticed that the Venture had sent and received several secured   
transmissions to and from Earth in the last few hours. I hacked into the   
logs and discovered something I think you should know."

As Garak told him what the UFP was planning he felt his stomach tighten   
into a knot. "I can't believe our people would even consider something   
like this," he said.

"I would," Garak said grimly. "I'm actually more surprised that they're   
hesitating."

"The second wave of the infection hasn't even hit most of Bajor yet!"   
Julian argued.

"But how long before it does?" Garak asked. "And how long will it be   
before this virus mutates to the point where it starts affecting humans   
or Cardassians? And what about other races in the Alpha Quadrant?"

Julian rubbed his beard. "So what do we do? Call Shakaar? What?"

"No one can know about this but us," Garak said. "If this gets out it   
will start a planet-wide panic. The vessels monitoring Bajor will have   
no choice but to attack if people start trying to evacuate. They cannot   
allow this infection to spread."

"How long do we have? Hours? Days?" Julian asked, feeling as though the   
walls were closing in on him. "I can't possibly find a cure in time!"

"Captain Figueiredo had her men interrogate Commander MacKelroy. He came   
up with a name: Sloan."

"What can we do with just one name?"

"I have some contacts off-world. I can see if they can track him down.   
In the meantime, you need to work on the treatment."

Julian nodded. "31 has to have a cure. It only makes sense in case their   
own people became infected. I just don't understand what the point of   
all this is. How does setting loose this virus ensure the safety of the   
Federation?"

"Think about it," Garak said. "Bajor holds no strategic value to the   
Federation other than its proximity to the wormhole and it has no real   
military power other than Deep Space Nine and a few small ships in its   
militia. Deep Space Nine is no longer reason enough to maintain the   
status quo. Unleashing this virus and destroying Bajor not only means   
that there's no one to object to the destruction of the wormhole, but it   
also sends a message to the Cardassians as to how far the Federation   
will go to keep its people safe. Cut off from the Dominion, the   
Cardassians will have no choice but to submit."

"Would they? Even if all that came to pass?"

Garak shrugged. "When the Federation blinked during the negotiations   
into the treaty to turn over the colonies along the DMZ, the leaders of   
Cardassia saw it as a sign of weakness. That opinion was solidified when   
they failed to intervene after hostilities began against the colonists.   
Making the decision to eliminate Bajor and then bring a strong military   
presence in afterward will cause the current administration to rethink   
their first impression of the Federation. Not only that, but this will   
rally all the planets within the United Federation of Planets to see the   
Dominion as a dire threat to the safety of every man, woman, and child.   
Until now your people have had a wait-and-see policy when it came to   
hostile governments, preferring diplomacy over a show of arms. The   
architects of this conspiracy undoubtedly think that will change once   
this gambit comes to its conclusion."

Julian considered that carefully. "But the virus changed inside of   
Ziyal's system; no one could have predicted that."

"Had the Cardassians been infected, the threat would have been   
neutralized as well, or--who knows. Perhaps the scientists who created   
it deliberately targeted Ziyal for infection knowing it would eventually   
infect pure-blooded Bajorans. Either way, it's worked to their advantage."

"That's diabolical."

"It's also the reason Cardassia never employed biowarfare," Garak said.   
"The results of such an attack are often unpredictable."

"What are we going to do?" Julian asked, mostly to himself.

"I'm going to make some calls. You just keep working. We'll find this   
Sloan and figure out what to do from there."

"Garak," he said, looking up. "Finding one man isn't going to be easy.   
Even if we had years to find him, which we don't, he could literally be   
anywhere by now. What do we do if we can't find him in time?"

Garak looked at him, his eyes darkening with some unnamed emotion. "If   
we can't find him and you can't find a cure then...we die."

"That's not an option!" Julian said as he rose from his seat. "We   
evacuate! We--"

"We'd spread the virus to wherever we evacuated to, doctor, and we can't   
risk doing that," he said firmly. "We'd only be postponing the   
inevitable if we did and we'd kill more people in the process."

Julian balled his hands into fists, a quick denial dying on his lips as   
he realized Garak was right. His shoulders sagged in defeat. "Make the   
calls."

Garak sat down in his chair and logged on to his computer. Julian   
watched over his shoulder as the Cardassian effortlessly hacked through   
various firewalls until he had the Tobin's logs. "One passenger   
disembarked from the Tobin on Starbase 375: a Wendell Greer." Garak did   
a search on Wendell Greer, then read the information aloud. "He's a   
member of the Federation Department of Cartography. He was assigned to   
Deep Space Nine to map the wormhole a few days prior to the planned   
attack by the Founder. Apparently, he volunteered to help dismantle the   
Founder's reconfigurations to the array, using his experience as a   
trained engineer as an in. He stayed to help with the upgrades while   
completing his 'assignment' until the Tobin arrived to drop off   
MacKelroy; he then joined their crew. He left Starbase 375, remaining   
just long enough to secure supplies and refuel his ship."

"He had a ship?"

"The records show that a privately owned Epsilon-class private cruiser   
was kept there in storage under his name for the last three months." He   
typed in a few more commands. "He also does not appear to have logged a   
flight plan when he left."

"Now what?" Julian asked.

Garak turned to him. "You said you had reason to believe this virus   
could have been created either in the Neutral Zone or Orion Space, correct?"

"Possibly. It's where I'd go if I wanted to hire someone to create a   
virus like this."

"Starbase 375 is closer to Orion space than it is the Neutral Zone."   
Garak turned on the comm unit and waited for it to connect. A Cardassian   
man appeared on screen.

//Garak. I assumed it was you when I saw where the comm was originating   
from.//

"Maehark," Garak said in greeting with a slight nod. "Tain is dead."

//I know,// Maehark said. //I got word of what happened right after you   
returned from the Gamma Quadrant.//

"I need a favor."

//Ask.//

Garak looked at him, not bothering to hide his surprise. "I assumed I   
would have to barter for the information."

//Tain left you his share of the security firm, Garak. Any information   
you need is yours. Despite your estrangement he knew you would always   
return to him. It appears he was not wrong.//

Garak paused for a moment, seeming to allow that to sink in. After a   
moment he spoke again. "I need to find a man. He appears to have   
contacts with someone in the Orion Syndicate or the Neutral   
Zone--medical contacts. The kind capable of creating sophisticated   
bioweapons."

//Do you have a name or an alias?//

"I have both. His name is Sloan but he was last known to be traveling   
under the alias 'Wendell Greer'. He's human. I'm sending you the file. I   
have to warn you it's thin: merely a quick rundown of his last known   
itinerary and a still frame from the security feed." Garak waited a   
moment for it to appear on the other man's end. "Time is an issue. We   
believe he may be in Orion space by now."

Maehark frowned, then typed something on his computer. He looked at   
Garak with a raised eyeridge. //I was under the impression you were   
retired and had become a humble priest. I didn't realize the Bajoran   
clergy had a lot of contact with agents of Section 31.//

Julian jumped, startled, but said nothing as Garak continued to speak   
with the other Cardassian. "You know him?"

//I've never dealt with him personally but he's made several trips to   
and from Finnea recently. A contact of mine with Idanian Intelligence   
has him and a man named Phlox under surveillance.//

"Phlox?" Julian said with a frown. "Rupert Phlox?"

//And I take it this would be Dr. Bashir?// Maehark said with a slight   
smile. //Tain mentioned you as well, doctor.//

"He did?"

//Rest assured, he was very kind in his assessment of you,// Maehark   
said evenly. //He was very impressed by the devotion you seemed to show   
his wayward pupil.//

"That warms my heart, really," Julian said flatly. "Now, are you talking   
about Dr. Rupert Phlox, the microbiologist?"

//Yes.//

"You know him?" Garak asked.

"I know of him. He was a scientist working with Starfleet Medical until   
twenty years ago."

"What do you know about him?"

"He was a legend. In fact, his great great great grandfather served on   
the first Enterprise. Phlox had it all--a legacy, talent--so when he got   
caught manipulating his results it scandalized the entire medical   
community. They audited his department afterward and found out he'd been   
using grant funds to cover his gambling debts. He was prosecuted for   
embezzlement and served sixteen months in a Federation prison. He was   
completely disgraced by the whole thing; he lost his good standing and   
his license in the process but his work previous to that was irrefutably   
brilliant. They're still teaching his theories at the Academy."

//And apparently he still has a gambling addiction,// Maehark broke in.   
//He's a regular fixture in the gambling houses there. Phlox has been   
working off his debt to the Syndicate by doing something for this Sloan   
but no one in the IIS knows what that might be.//

"How good is this contact of yours in the Idanian Intelligence Service?"   
Garak asked.

//Very.//

"I need you to set up a meeting between your contact and my people then   
have him arrange it so they can escort Sloan back to Bajor. The doctor   
as well, if possible."

//I think I can arrange that. Idanians are difficult to pin down of   
course, but we've worked together before.//

"If you do this for me, Maehark, you can keep my share of the firm,"   
Garak said.

Maehark shook his head. //Tain left it to you, Garak. When you're ready   
to return you'll be welcomed. We could use someone with your experience   
at the helm. You should also know that Tain kept your accounts active.   
I've been depositing your share of the profits into them.//

"He was probably just waiting to see if I'd ever try to access them,"   
Garak said.

//I think that was part of it, but they are yours nonetheless,// Maehark   
said with a slight smile.

"Thank you, my friend. I'll contact you as soon as I have the particulars."

//I meant what I said, Garak,// Maehark said as he glanced at Julian.   
//If you get tired of your life there. As I recall we worked very well   
together once upon a time.//

"I remember, but I'm happy where I am. Thank you Maehark. Garak out."

Julian felt a flush of anger crawl up his cheeks as he went over   
Maehark's words and the way he had looked so dismissively toward him.   
"Just how 'closely' did you work with this Maehark anyway?"

"We were in the Order together, then when Tain retired and opened a   
private security firm in the Arawath Colonies he took Maehark with him   
as a junior partner. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Julian said darkly. "Who are you calling now?"

"Jomat Luscon."

Julian searched his memory. "The head of Bajoran Social Services? Why?"

Garak didn't answer him. The line connected and he looked into the   
woman's eyes. "Luscon."

//Garak,// she breathed, then she cleared her throat. //I was hoping   
you'd call. Merel told me--//

"I need your help."

//What do you need?//

"Have you kept up with the rest of the survivors?" Garak said in a   
strangely neutral tone.

//Yes,// she replied. //Garak--if this is about what I told Merel, I'm   
sorry. I--//

"It's not important," Garak said, cutting her off.

//Yes, it is,// Luscon insisted. //Garak, I owe you an apology.   
After--// She cleared her throat again and said in a lower voice,   
//After the cave-in we looked for you both but couldn't find the bodies.   
A few years later one of my social workers called to tell me that a   
young Starfleet doctor she had just finished speaking with had been   
accompanied by a rather odd Cardassian man. To say he left a lingering   
impression on her would be an understatement.// Her lips curved slightly   
upward. //From the description she gave me, I thought it might have been   
you but I couldn't know for sure. I did some checking and that's when I   
discovered you'd been on the station since the Occupation ended. I   
wanted to contact you, but-//

"It's all right," Garak began.

//No, it's not,// she said. //I was afraid that the reason you hid from   
me that day was because you blamed me for what happened.//

"Blamed you?" Garak repeated.

//I was the leader, Garak. I should have been the one to make those   
transmissions, not you. I did it because--because I knew Dukat would   
recognize your voice. You were our ally, Garak. You fought beside us,   
helped put food in our stomachs, but at the time--// She looked away   
from him. //I just wanted the Cardassians to know that one of their own   
was on our side. I thought that the reason you didn't come to me after   
the Occupation was because you blamed me for what happened.//

"No. I never did," Garak said, his expression showing the depths of his   
surprise far more than words ever could. "I thought you blamed me--all   
of you."

//No, never,// she said with a smile. //Didn't you figure that out when   
I sent Merel to you?//

"No."

//I sent her to you because I knew she could trust you...like we trusted   
you.//

Garak went silent for a moment. "I can't...I don't have time for this   
right now, Luscon. I need your help; lives are at stake."

//What is it?//

"I heard a rumor that Momo was running freight in the Orion sector."

Luscon snorted rudely. //If by 'running freight' you mean to ask 'is   
Momo smuggling whatever she can get the most latinum for while staying   
under the Orion Syndicate's radar'? Then yes, she is.//

"Can you get in touch with her?"

//I can.// She looked at him with curiosity. //What's this about, Garak?//

"I need her to make contact with someone over there and I need it to be   
soon."

//I'll see what I can do. Expect her call within the hour.//

"Thank you."

//I really have missed you, Garak. When we can, I'd like to meet with   
you in person, perhaps talk about the old days.//

He smiled. "I'd like that."

//Good bye.//

"Good bye, Luscon."

A myriad of emotions were reflected in Garak's face as the Cardassian   
sat staring at the blank screen. If the revelations made by Maehark had   
surprised Julian, Garak's conversation with Jomat Luscon had left him   
utterly undone, and a little shell-shocked as well. She'd basically   
implied--no, she had said that Garak had been affiliated with the   
Resistance during the Occupation. Was this 'Anwen' Garak dreamed about   
the reason why? Was she a Bajoran? Was Anwen his comfort woman or was it   
more than that? He suspected it was, if after all these years he still   
thought about her. And what was Luscon talking about when she mentioned   
Garak being caught in a cave-in?

Was that why he suffered from claustrophobia? Garak had told him that   
his fear of tight spaces came about when he was trapped in a room where   
the walls moved while on assignment. As he recalled, the assignment in   
question was on the planet Tzenketh, and while an Obsidian Order agent   
might have reason to go off world to Tzenketh, a member of the Bajoran   
Resistance would not.

What had Brother Lum told him? There had been a mountain range 2000   
kilometers east of here that had been leveled shortly before the   
Occupation had ended. And there was something else; something in the old   
man's story he had found mildly interesting at the time but hadn't   
really clued on to until now...

"Garak--?"

Garak arose from his chair with a sudden movement and headed for the   
door. "I have to check on Lewin and Kela, then I have to continue   
monitoring the transmissions to and from Starfleet. We need to be   
prepared for the worst. Keep working on the virus and I'll inform you   
the moment I hear anything."

"But I--" he made a frustrated noise in his throat. No time for those   
type of questions, Jules. Save them for after you beat this thing. "Very   
well, if I find anything I'll do the same."

"Goodnight, doctor."

"Goodnight."

After Garak left, Julian went into the main tent to do his rounds. At   
one point he'd known Garak, or rather he'd thought he'd known him. Now   
it appeared that he wasn't the only one who had lived a completely   
different life before coming to the station.


	10. The Code of the Resistance

CHAPTER TEN: The Code of the Resistance

 

"We take care of our own."

That was what Shakaar had said to Kira when she asked why he was   
determined to fight to keep Garak on Bajor. What was his connection with   
the Resistance? Was he a double agent working for the Bajorans?

No, Julian told himself: that didn't make any sense. If he had been an   
ally to the Bajorans why would he have been living as an exile on the   
station all these years? The Bajorans would have made him a superstar,   
throwing his collaboration with the Resistance in the face of the   
Cardassians every chance they got. It just didn't add up.

Julian turned over in his cot and listened to the soft snores of his   
patients as they slept in their beds and the lows beeps of the   
biomonitors they had placed on each of them.

Once they had stabilized them, it was decided that they would keep the   
worst of them lightly sedated and inside the medical tent while the rest   
of the monks doubled up in their own cabins so they could keep check on   
each other. The medical team decided to take turns sleeping within the   
makeshift ward in case of emergency. He and Perreira were on call   
tonight, then Girani and Okuna would do so tomorrow. Jake was sleeping   
in the same room as Ziyal keeping watch there; they wouldn't have been   
able to move him in any case so Julian had made the call to let him stay.

He listened as Perreira walked down the aisles of beds checking on each   
of their patients. Julian cursed silently and tried to get comfortable;   
he was supposed to be taking over for Perreira in an hour and he had yet   
to even shut his eyes. The fact that he was having trouble sleeping was   
understandable given the circumstances, but his mind should have been   
focusing on the problem of finding a cure, not on Garak's past.

Perhaps it was just his mind's way of avoiding more stress than it could   
handle, but right now the mysterious Mr. Garak was all he could think   
about. Frankly, if he had to think about Garak he'd rather be focusing   
on his past than on their near-kiss under the tree the previous morning.   
Julian shifted again in the narrow cot. It had been so sweet, so close   
to perfect. Their mouths had brushed so softly as he attempted to seduce   
Garak with his words and it had been working. Had everything gone as it   
should have he'd be sleeping in Garak's bed tonight instead of a hard   
cot surrounded by twenty-seven other people.

God, he was hard up, Julian thought, staring up at the ceiling. It was   
sick. How could anyone feel the least bit sexual at a time like this? He   
should be ashamed of himself. For the most part, the world as they knew   
it was about to end. Anyone who could get it up at a time like this had   
to be fucked in the head.

Still, just when he thought he had Garak pinned down, reality (once   
again) decided to take a left turn on him. The idea of Garak being a   
supporter of the Bajoran Resistance was preposterous. Garak would never   
betray Cardassia. For the last five years he had done everything he   
could to return to Cardassia. He had risked his life how many times just   
to ingratiate himself to Enabran Tain? No, if the Bajorans thought Garak   
was their ally it had to have been because he had been under cover or   
something. That's it, Julian thought. Maybe Garak had been assigned to   
infiltrate the Resistance and--

And what?

He had met someone? Fallen in love, perhaps, and that's what led to his   
exile? A romantic scenario, but not a role he could ever see a man like   
Elim Garak playing. He wasn't a romantic, he was a pragmatist. He'd   
never allow himself to be vulnerable enough to--

But that wasn't true, was it? Recent history had taught him that, didn't   
it? Garak had allowed himself to fall for the Founder and had fallen so   
hard he'd ignored the obvious signs the Founder left behind, so who was   
it Julian was confusing the Cardassian with?

Who do you think, Jules?

Son of a bitch, Julian thought as he stared at the ceiling of the tent.   
Even Garak was more human than he was.

Fuck.

He punched his pillow and rolled over. Thinking about this wasn't doing   
anyone any good. Besides, it didn't matter any more, did it? If he   
couldn't find that cure they were dead anyway. Go to sleep, he told   
himself: this might be the last opportunity you ever have to actually   
find a little peace.

Julian shut his eyes and breathed, willing the visions he now had of   
Elim Garak out of his troubled mind.

 

*****

Okuna woke up to a strange noise. A crash and...he concentrated; someone   
was singing. Badly.

He got up out of bed and grabbed a pair of boxers off the chair near his   
bed. He stepped out of his room, rubbing his eyes sleepily. When his   
vision adjusted to the sudden light, he blinked again just so he could   
be sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing.

Girani was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace drinking wine   
straight from the bottle, a second bottle laying in shards among the   
embers of the smoldering fire. She was singing the bawdiest, most   
obscene song he had ever heard; something about a cabin boy sticking   
glass up his--

"What the hell are you doing?" Okuna asked irritably.

"Drinking," she said, then began to sing again. "The cabin boy, the   
cabin boy; the cheeky little nipper! He stuffed his arse all full of   
glass and circumcised the skipper!" She chuckled, taking another swig of   
wine, then winced. "Oh Prophets, this stuff's awful. We made better wine   
then this in our latrine during the Occupation." She looked up at him   
blearily. "What's a 'skipper' anyway? O'Brien never explained that part   
to me."

"It's a--why are you getting drunk at a time like this?" he burst out.   
"With everything that's happening you decided *NOW* was the time to fall   
apart?!?"

"Can you think of a better time?" she asked before belching loudly. "Oh,   
that didn't taste good. Ugh. Mind if I borrow your toothbrush? I left   
mine over at Jake and Ziyal's cabin."

"Hell, yes, I mind!" he retorted. "What are you going to do if we have a   
medical emergency and you're needed to attend?"

"Oh don't get your grinches in a twist, Okuna," she said swaying slightly.

"It's gonch, not grinch--"

"Whatever. There's a couple of hypos on the table. I can be sober and   
hangover-free when I need to be. Right now I just want to get piss drunk."

"Piss drunk?"

"That's what O'Brien called it: piss drunk." She held the 's' in 'piss'   
a second or two longer than necessary. "I like the way that sounds. Say   
it with me, Okuna: Pissssssss drunk. PISSSSSSSSSSS DRUNK! Let's all get   
PISSSSSS DRUNK!"

"Let's not." He plucked the bottle from her hands. "What do you say we   
administer you those hypos and get you into a warm bath?" he suggested,   
putting the bottle aside and helping her up from the floor.

She fell into his arms and grinned drunkenly into his face. "You know,   
Okuna," she said with a lascivious look, "you're not so bad looking--I   
mean, you're not great, but you're not completely disgusting either."

"Thank you," he said dryly, avoiding her boozy breath by tilting his   
head away from her. "And you're not such a high riding bitch once you're   
too drunk to remember to act like one."

"Thank you. Wanna fuck?"

Okuna choked slightly. "Pardon me?"

"Fuck. The act of copulation. You and me. Fuck. Ing," she said, putting   
a great deal of emphasis on the obscenity.

"You are really, really drunk Girani, so I think we'd better--"

"Do you have something against getting laid, Okuna?" Girani asked,   
pushing away from him and lifting an eyebrow. "I sincerely doubt you   
were dating that dabo girl for her mind, so what gives?"

"I like sex fine, I just have no intentions of--" and with that he made   
a vague gesture with his hands, "with you!"

"Why not? Don't you think I'm attractive?"

"I-I-" Okuna scowled. "I'm not going to--you're drunk!"

"So?"

"So? So it wouldn't be right!"

"Don't be such a weenie."

Okuna did a double take. "Who told you--wait: O'Brien."

"Yup."

"Do you even know what a weenie is?"

"Kind of. Want to whip yours out so I can make sure?" Girani asked with   
a bawdy wink.

"I will not take advantage of you while you're in this state!"

"Take advantage--?" Girani laughed. "I may be on the tipsy side, Okuna,   
but that fruit juice the monks make is nothing compared to what I   
usually drink when I get good and serious about it!"

"Then why are you staggering around?"

"I had to give myself another hypo. The combination of the muscle   
relaxant with the wine increases the effects of the alcohol." She   
suddenly sounded much more sober. "In another day or so I'm going to be   
laid out on a cot with the rest of them. I'm going to die, Okuna."

He looked at her, suddenly feeling at a loss. "Doctor Bashir is working   
on the problem--"

"Grow up! It's too late!" She plopped down on the couch and stared at   
the fire. "It's not that I mind dying. It's just that I didn't...I just   
planned on doing more with my life first."

"There's still time," he said, moving to sit next to her. "Doc Bashir   
will pull it out of the fire; he always does."

"He's not a superhero, Okuna. He's just flesh and blood like the rest of   
us." She leaned back, her mood suddenly very subdued. "I had plans, you   
know? I was going to take some time off when I had a chance, start a   
family maybe. I've been delivering other people's babies for years. I'm   
old enough now that I figured it was time to have one of my own."

"I didn't even know you were seeing anybody," he said in surprise.

"I'm not."

He frowned. "Then how--?"

"You don't need a man to have a baby, Okuna. Are you sure you have a   
medical degree?" She snorted. "I was going to have someone donate, then   
Dr. Bashir was going to do the procedures. We'd already discussed it--or   
rather, the Founder and I had discussed it, but the real Bashir had gone   
over it with me after all that mess as well. I figured I'd schedule   
something in the summer or whenever things calmed down. That's never   
going to happen now." She sighed, plopping back into the couch. "Oh   
well, I would have made a lousy mother anyway. No one likes me; why   
would my own kid be any different?"

"I like you."

"You can't stand me."

"That's not true! I like you fine. I think you're an excellent doctor."

She pinned him with a dirty look. "I'm not asking you to testify as to   
my professional abilities, Okuna. I'm talking about who I am as a person."

"Oh. Well..." He frowned and tried to find something positive to say.   
"You have a great sense of humor."

"I do?" she asked dubiously.

"Oh, yeah," Okuna said enthusiastically. "You're always tossing around   
those zingers to me and Perreira, keeping us on our toes."

"It's not that hard. The two of you aren't exactly geniuses."

"See what I mean? There you go. You have a certain...gruff charm."

"'Gruff charm'?" she repeated.

"That's right."

"In other words, I'm a sarcastic, know-it-all bitch."

"Um, I was going for a slightly less inflammatory description, but yes.   
Only in a good way," he added quickly.

Girani rolled her eyes and snorted. "Whatever. Let's go," she said,   
getting up from the couch and tugging him by the arm to join her.

"Where are we going?" Okuna asked reluctantly as he allowed himself to   
be pulled along.

"My room."

He put on the brakes and tugged him arm back. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yeah, why?"

"So we can have sex. I explained this to you already," she said to him   
in a tone that implied that she thought he was mentally disabled.

"I can't--we can't have sex!" he cried.

"Why? Do you have some sort of defect or kink I need to know about?"   
Girani asked, looking at him like he was a bug.

"No!" He cleared his throat. "I'll have you know that I am a perfectly   
normal, healthy man--in *every* way. That has nothing to do with--"

"I'll have to take your word for it," Girani said, giving his baggy   
boxer shorts an assessing look. "Hard to tell if that's true while   
you're wearing those things."

Okuna crossed his hands in front of himself and shifted his stance   
slightly. "You don't even like me in that way, Girani."

"So?"

"So?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I say?" Girani said irritably.   
"Look, I'm facing death here. I just want to get laid before that   
happens and you're available. If Perreira was the one standing there--"   
She paused. "On second thought, not even the threat of impending doom   
would ever get me to go there. Still, whether you agree to have sex with   
me or not, I'm getting laid even if I have to knock on the doors of   
every monk who can still get out of bed. I might even have a go with Dr.   
Bashir, although I doubt I'm still his type."

"I just--I always assumed--" Okuna struggled with how to put what he was   
trying to say into words.

"You assumed what?"

"I always assumed you went the 'other' way," he got out at last.

"What other way?"

"I assumed you were a lesbian."

"A what?"

"A homosexual woman; someone who only sleeps with other women."

"Oh. I am."

"What?"

"Well, not only with women, just mostly with women," she said, shaking   
her head at him. "What is it with you humans and this strange obsession   
with categorizing your sexual preferences?"

"I just--well, you know, um--"

"Are you saying you've never slept with another man before?"

"No! Yes! I mean, no! No, I have not! Only women! Lots of women; well, a   
few women--not that there's anything wrong with, y'know, but no--no, I'm   
definitely straight!"

"You have a lot of issues with sex, don't you?"

"I certainly do not!"

"It sounds like you do."

"I don't! I'm fine with people who are homosexual, but I happen to...I'm   
comfortable in my...damn it, I like girls, Girani! I don't have to   
justify it to you or anyone else!" he said, his cheeks ablaze with   
embarrassment.

"Fine. I'm okay, you're okay. You just...do whatever it is you like to   
do by yourself and I'll look elsewhere for what I need." She headed for   
the door.

"Wait!"

"What is it now, Okuna?" Girani asked, turning around with a sigh. "I   
believe you; you're a real ladies man, now can I--?"

"Fuck it--let's go," he said with a stubborn set to his jaw.

"What?"

"I said let's do this," he repeated. "Sex. You and me. Your place or mine?"

"You sure you can handle it?" she asked, approaching him with a mocking   
grin. "I wouldn't want to--"

He reached out and pulled her into a rough embrace, kissing her with all   
the enthusiasm he could muster. When they surfaced for air he grinned   
down at her, taking in her obvious surprise with no little amount of   
satisfaction. "I'm ready if you are."

"Okay," she said after a moment's pause.

"After you," he said, watching the sway of her hips as she led him into   
her bedroom.

 

*******

 

Rupert Phlox was a man of weak character and little personality. He was   
guided by his vices which were, although prodigious, fairly common in   
the grand scheme of things. Gambling, being his main addiction, was   
merely a gateway to the others: sex, alcohol, and, most recently, drugs.   
He was beginning to pop up at the golden dens more and more these days   
to indulge in the shimmering vapors which many used to escape their   
limited lives. A dependence on golden, given Phlox's lack of fortitude,   
was inevitable.

As all of these pastimes were regulated by the Syndicate, Phlox was well   
and truly in their grip. When they needed him, all they had to do was   
withhold one or all of his 'hobbies' and he would do anything they asked   
of him. Gone was the Nobel recipient whose theories reinvented the field   
of microbiology; in his place was a sad, broken-down failure of a man   
whose brilliance was only accessible if someone coaxed it out of him by   
dangling a packet of golden or a handful of gambling strips in front of   
him like a carrot.

But he was brilliant: of that there was no doubt, Sloan thought as he   
watched him from across the room. Everything was going just the way it   
was supposed to. Section 31, always preferring to be ahead of the curve,   
had access to a group of genetically engineered savants who informed   
them some months back that the Dominion War was not only inevitable but   
impossible to win. The key to stopping this, they had said, was Bajor,   
the little nothing planet whose only value to the Federation was the   
station located at the mouth of the wormhole. If a war broke out they   
would either be forced to go neutral or to submit to the Dominion.   
Either way, the wormhole would be lost. and Cardassia would have no   
choice but to join the Dominion as well. After that it was just a matter   
of time before the Alpha Quadrant fell. The only solution would be to   
remove either Bajor, Cardassia, or both from the equation--which is   
where Phlox came in.

He'd invented the virus that Sloan had planted in the air ducts of Tora   
Ziyal's quarters three months ago, figuring both she and her father, Gul   
Dukat, would be infected. Dukat, whose ship's communications had been   
regularly intercepted by 31 operatives, had been discovered to be in   
talks with the Dominion to take control of Cardassia. Had all gone ahead   
as planned, both worlds would already be neutralized, but his superiors   
had not anticipated that the Founders already had an operative of their   
own in place.

Just three days prior to Dukat's planned visit with his daughter, the   
Founder had revealed himself and was killed, which led to Dukat going   
underground and therefore never becoming exposed to the virus. A   
setback, yes, but not a disaster. They had made contingency plans for   
such an event.

Bajor would be euthanized within the next few days and then the   
Federation would destroy the wormhole as planned. With no access to the   
Alpha Quadrant, the Dominion threat would be neutralized, and the   
Cardassians would see the act of destroying Bajor and the wormhole as   
reason to negotiate a lasting peace. If not, then it would take very   
little convincing to have the Federation put a stop to Cardassia once   
and for all as well.

It was a risky plan, but one that had worked out (so far) for the best.   
Originally they had planned to introduce a similar virus to the   
Founders, but it hadn't panned out as they had hoped. 31 had infected   
Odo with a mutagenic virus some time ago but, instead of him passing it   
on to the other shapeshifters, he had been reverted to solid form, which   
made him no longer able to 'link' and therefore pass it on. When the   
infant changeling 'cured' him, it had also somehow destroyed the virus   
in his system as well.

No matter, Sloan thought. Personally he felt this was the better plan of   
the two anyway; after all, merely taking out the Founders still left the   
Vorta and the Jem'Hadar to deal with. The big brains had theorized that   
without the Founders, the Vorta and the Hadar would be unable to   
function. Personally Sloan thought that was a load of bullshit. The   
Vorta were, after all, the real threat. They were the Hadar's true   
masters. Most of the Dominion's soldiers had never even seen a Founder.   
The Vorta handled everything: White production, overseeing the troops,   
even the day-to-day business of controlling the Founders' empire while   
their gelatinous masters swam around in their golden sea. Without their   
gods to hinder them, the dickless little bastards would probably unleash   
Armageddon on the Alpha Quadrant in a heartbeat.

No, taking out Bajor was a much better plan. After all, it wasn't like   
it was a major power with a real military force protecting them--not one   
of their own anyway. Bajor had had five years to join them and had   
steadfastly refused to do so. The Federation's mollycoddling of them by   
restoring their station and providing them with everything they needed   
to survive would have gone on forever had someone not stepped up and   
done something. It was all too obvious that they were biding their time,   
just waiting for a better offer from somewhere. If it weren't the   
Dominion it would eventually be some other foreign power, and the   
Federation would be in the same situation they were now--only instead of   
going to war with the Dominion, it would be the Klingons or the Romulans   
or some other previously unknown power.

Then there was the financial angle to the whole thing. Taking Bajor out   
was not only strategically sound but economically sound as well. No more   
Bajor meant no more foreign aid and it would only take a few ships to   
get the job done with virtually no major Federation losses. His handler   
assured him that the same men and women at the UFP who were moaning and   
wailing over the poor innocent Bajorans' dire fate were also looking at   
the numbers with a happy glint in their eye. After all, if you can win a   
war without actually engaging another superpower in the process, then   
the loss of a few farmers and a dilapidated wreck of a station were more   
than acceptable. They could have a state-of-the-art facility up and   
running within a few months. Until then, they could set up a barebones   
way station and move any survivors to Starbase 375. As far as those in   
the know were concerned, the second he'd reported back that the canister   
containing the virus had been successfully planted, this was all a done   
deal. He'd even heard that the Mars shipyards had already started   
building the modular sections needed to construct the new station.

The plan was working; all that was left to do was to tie up loose ends.   
They had gotten what they needed from Phlox, now he just needed to be   
disposed of before he sobered up enough to grow a conscience or before   
some clever brain back at Headquarters connected the dots right back to   
his theories and sent agents to collect him. They wanted the Federation   
to come up with a cure, just not quite yet. Once Bajor was neutralized,   
then they could figure out Phlox's riddle or one of 31's eggheads would   
merely discover it 'by accident' and that would be that. Until then it   
was his job to make sure everything went according to schedule.

A pretty, half-naked, green-skinned cocktail waitress brought him his   
drink, a coy seductive smile gracing her lips. "Hello there,   
sweetheart," he said, taking both of the martinis he had ordered from   
her tray. "See that man over there?"

"Rupert?" she asked, looking over to where he was pointing.

"You know him?"

"Everyone knows him," she said dismissively, then gave him a come-hither   
look. "He's not really my type, though. If you're interested, I get off   
in half an hour."

"That sounds delightful," Sloan said with an appreciative smile as he   
looked at her dark green aureoles which were clearly visible beneath her   
sheer top. "But first, can you let Rupert know I'm waiting for him at   
the bar?"

"Sure," she said, sidling up to him so he could smell her perfume. "My   
name's Angel, by the way."

"It certainly is," he said with an even broader smile. "Now go on and   
give old Rupert that message so you and I can get down to business   
ourselves, okay Angel?"

"Okay." Her smile grew even brighter as he tossed a handful of strips   
onto her tray. She made sure to give him a show as she left by wiggling   
her tight little ass as she walked toward the doctor.

It was turning out to be a very good day, Sloan thought, appreciating   
the view. He quickly dropped a capsule into one of the glasses, then   
waited for Phlox to join him for a celebratory toast to a job well done.

 

*****

 

Two hours after Rupert Phlox's body had been removed from the gambling   
house's floor (the good doctor being the apparent victim of a sudden   
heart attack brought on by an overdose of golden), Sloan was celebrating   
his success with an indulgence of his own.

He held 'Angel's' hips in a bruising grip as he pounded into her. She   
cooed and whimpered as he drove his cock deep inside, her slick juices   
running down his length and coating his balls in liquid warmth. Orion   
women were the best, he thought as he fucked her roughly. Made for sex,   
all they wanted was to be fucked over and over again in any way they   
could get it. He could do anything to her: fuck her in every hole and in   
any position and she'd just burn for more. It was the one thing he'd   
miss as he left this assignment behind him.

He pinched and teased her hard nipples as he took her, her hands   
gripping the metal railing of the stairwell. When he felt the pressure   
in his balls begin to build and swell, he reached for the back of her   
hair and pulled, causing her to cry out in a combination of pleasure and   
pain. He forced her neck to curve upward, her mouth hanging open in a   
silent scream of ecstasy, then lunged forward, his cock hitting bottom.   
As he abused her cervix he felt her vaginal muscles tightening around   
him. He shifted his hips, increasing her pleasure with a new, sweet   
friction, his balls still slapping against her swollen clit. Her juices   
were flowing like a river now, and when she screamed in her release he   
let go as well, pleasure exploding in his brain. After he emptied   
himself inside of her, he took a moment to look down at the girl who   
slid out of his grip and onto the stairs so she could catch her breath.   
Not bad for an old man, he thought with a smirk, looking down at her   
heaving breasts and the wetness of his completion which was now running   
down her firm, young thighs. He had given her a good run, all things   
considered. Sloan reached out for a handful of her long, dark green   
hair and let it slide between his fingers. Like green silk, he thought.   
Maybe he'd try to make it back here sometime.

After wiping off his pubic area with a handkerchief and buttoning up his   
pants, he pulled out a chip card and pressed it into her hand. "Thanks   
Angel, I had a good time."

She got up from the stairs, looking at the golden chip worth 10,000   
credits with wide, greedy eyes, then smiled up at him. "My place isn't   
far from here. We could go there--no charge."

"Thanks, but I have things to do," he said, straightening his clothing   
and running a hand through his hair. "Don't spend it all in one place,   
okay?"

She tilted her head up and kissed him then said, "Next time you're in   
town remember to look me up, okay stranger?"

"You better believe I will," he said, smacking her on the butt and   
causing her to yelp and grin before she moved off toward the ladies'   
room to clean up. Nothing seemed to turn him on more than taking another   
man's life. It was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

He walked back into the gambling house, now relaxed and feeling   
recharged. He'd enjoy himself for just a little while longer before   
heading back to meet his handler in the Alpha Quadrant. Maybe he'd pick   
up another couple of girls and take them back to his room for a while   
before heading back out. A job well done always left him feeling energized.

He sidled up to the bar, glancing over at the slot machine where Phlox   
had met his bitter end with a sly smile. He ordered an ice-cold pint of   
Orion beer and took a drink, then motioned for the bartender to hand him   
a cigarette. He hadn't smoked in years, the habit being illegal in most   
of Federation space, but after a job he liked to indulge his vices.   
After all, the good guys won, right? There was nothing wrong with   
celebrating victory with a cold beer, a hot woman, and a long drag off a   
cig made from real Orion spiced tobacco. He popped the cig in his mouth   
and looked around for a light.

"Here."

Sloan looked at the woman in front of him and smiled. She was Orion,   
that was obvious from her emerald skin, but she was older than his   
'Angel' had been. More buxom and mature, her hair was dyed an unnatural   
shade of bright red that set off her complexion perfectly. "Thanks," he   
said, leaning in to light up. The spicy scent, similar to cloves with a   
slightly fruity undertone, filled the air as the Orion tobacco began to   
burn.

"No problem," she said in a husky voice before ordering her own drink.   
"Romulan Ale. Neat."

"Put it on my tab," he told the bartender.

"Why, thank you," she said with a slight smile.

"One good turn deserves another." He took a drag from his cigarette then   
took a moment to appreciate the view. If Angel was an appetizer, this   
woman was a steak dinner. Curvy and soft, her sexuality seemed to   
smolder just under the surface. Her outfit concealed much more than it   
revealed which he found, for some reason, far more sexy than Angel's   
in-your-face near nudity. "Do you work here?"

"At the club? No," she said, sipping her drink. "I'm just visiting. Do   
you have another one of those?" She pointed to his smoke.

"Bartender," he said, tossing a chip on the counter. He was given a   
fresh pack from which he handed a cigarette to his companion.

"Thanks again," she said. He took her lighter from her and lit her   
cigarette, causing her to smile in amusement. "How gallant."

"I have my moments," he said, handing it back to her.

"What's your name?"

"Greer. Wendell Greer," Sloan answered. "And you are?"

"Nadia." She took another puff before looking him up and down. "You're   
human. Not many of your kind venture this far out into Syndicate territory."

"I have some business acquaintances out here."

"Oh. What kind of business are you in, Mr. Greer?"

"Import/export," he answered easily.

She chuckled. "What a coincidence; that's the business I'm in as well."

"Well, then, I suppose that makes us colleagues," he said with a slow grin.

"So it does," she agreed, eyeing him appreciatively. "If you're planning   
on taking that pack back with you to the Alpha Quadrant I'd be careful.   
A business acquaintance of mine got caught smuggling them in and is   
serving two years in a Federation prison for his efforts."

"I doubt a broken up pack will rate me that much time."

"I always find it strange that your government considers these," and she   
held up her smoke and glass of Romulan ale up for a moment, "contraband   
worthy of imprisonment when every one of your ships traveling our   
borders is loaded down with both to restock some Starfleet Admiral's   
diminishing supply."

"Allow us our little hypocrisies," Sloan replied. "It's the only thing   
that makes living in the Federation's version of Utopia tolerable."

"Hmm. Does your wife share your taste for the forbidden, Mr. Greer?"

"I'm not married. At least not at the moment. If I were, though, I'd   
like to think the woman I'd pick to share my bed and my life would   
appreciate a little taste of forbidden fruit every once in a while."

She laughed. "Oh, Mr. Greer, forgive me for saying so but even though   
we've only just met I can already tell you are a man whose appetite for   
the forbidden pleasures of all things Orion can not be sated by a mere   
'taste'." She drew a long, manicured finger down the front of his shirt.   
"You strike me as an all or nothing kind of person, much like myself."

"Are you saying you're a bad girl, Nadia?" Sloan asked in a low voice.

"I'm not a girl, Mr. Greer. I'm a woman, and I'm not bad. I happen to be   
very, very..." Her voice dropped to a husky whisper as she leaned in   
close. "Good."

"If I may be so bold, do you, by any chance, indulge in any business on   
the side, Nadia?" Sloan asked, feeling his ardor rise once again.

"If you're asking if I'm a whore, the answer is no," she said, not   
sounding the least bit offended as she put out her cigarette in the   
ashtray on the bar. "When I take a lover I do it because he or she   
interests me, not their money."

"And do I interest you, Nadia?" he asked, putting his smoke out as well.

"As a matter of fact you do, Mr. Greer," Nadia said, her deep red eyes   
twinkling with amusement.

"Shall we retire to somewhere more private then?" he asked, offering her   
his arm.

"That's a rather presumptuous invitation, Mr. Greer."

"It's only presumptuous if you turn me down and I seriously doubt you   
will," he said, not dropping his arm.

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because, like you said, we're both people who need more than just a   
mere taste of temptation and," he said as he looked her up and down   
slowly, "right now I'd like nothing more than to take you somewhere more   
private so we can better savor one another's company."

She chuckled. "An excellent point." She laid a delicate hand on his arm   
and allowed him to lead her toward the exit. "My ship is parked near   
here if you'd care to join me for a bottle of very good wine," she said   
just as they walked out into the cool night air.

"Sounds wonderful," he said. "But first..." He took her in his arms,   
kissing her gently. She was sweet and warm: womanly. He deepened their   
embrace, his hands pressing her full curves closer to him.

When they broke apart she moaned against his lips. "Oh you are an eager   
one, aren't you Mr. Sloan?"

"I'd like to think--" he started, then he pushed her away roughly,   
reaching for his weapon.

But it was too late. Sloan felt something crack against his skull and   
just before his world went dark he heard another woman say, "I'll be   
damned. Works every time."

*****

Garak's comm system chirped; he awoke from where he had been napping on   
the couch to answer it. Momo appeared on screen, a huge grin lighting up   
her face.

"It's done?" he asked.

//It was so easy, it was almost embarrassing.// Momo chuckled. //No   
matter how big and tough they are, dangle a piece of ass in front of   
them and they fall for it every time.//

"Did you get his ship?"

//My girl is piloting it now,// she said. //Before you ask, though, his   
ship was clean. Nadia went through his systems with a fine-toothed comb   
but she hasn't been able to find anything.//

"I suspected as much. If I were you, I'd dump it as quickly as possible   
in case his handlers come looking."

//Already done,// Momo said. //Nadia is taking it to a guy I know who   
will be more than happy to take it off our hands. Hope you don't mind if   
I pocket the proceeds?//

"Consider it your payment for services rendered," Garak said. "I need   
you to get here as soon as possible but do not under any circumstances   
try to land."

//Got you. You are going to clear this with the Feddies, right? I don't   
want them to light my ass up before I can beam this piece of shit down   
to the surface.//

"You'll have the all clear," he promised. "When can you be here?"

//Give me a few more hours. I'll comm you when I hit Bajoran space. And   
Garak?//

He looked at her questioningly.

//It sure is nice to be working with you again. You know, saving the   
day, fighting the good fight, and all that other shit,// she said with a   
grin. //Life has been pretty damned boring the last five and a half   
years without you.//

"I only wish I could say the same," Garak said, just before logging off.

******

 

Okuna awoke to the uncomfortable sensation of someone smacking him on   
the head repeatedly.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, shielding himself from further injury. "Damn it,   
Girani!"

"Go...get me...the hypos...now." she said through gritted teeth, her   
features drawn and pale.

"Hang on, I can't find my shorts," he said as he fumbled around in the dark.

"Fuck your shorts--get me the hypos!" she snapped, grabbing her head   
with a moan.

Okuna scrambled out of bed, cursing as he stubbed his toe, and ran into   
the living area. As soon as he had the hypos he headed back,   
automatically reaching for the light switch as he entered the room.

"Turn it off!" Girani gasped, shutting her eyes against the sudden   
brightness.

"Sorry." He waved them off again, making his way back to the bed and   
pressing the first hypo against her throat.

She sighed in relief. "Haven't you ever had a hangover, Okuna? There are   
rules, you know? Like never blinding someone on the verge of puking   
their guts out."

"I said I was sorry." He pressed the second hypo to her throat. "How do   
you feel?"

"Better."

"No pain? Nausea?" he asked, wishing he had grabbed his tricorder when   
he got the hypos.

"I'm fine. I feel good, all things considered." She stretched her   
muscles. "A little sore, maybe."

"What kind of soreness?" Okuna asked, going into doctor mode.

"What kind do you think?" she shot back with a snort. "It's been a while   
for me if you know what I mean. Prophets, Okuna. Get your tricorder out   
of your ass and relax."

"Oh. Sorry," he said sheepishly.

Girani sat up in bed clutching the covers to her breasts and grinning at   
him. "Not much on morning after conversation, huh?"

"Uh, well..." He averted his eyes for a moment. "To tell you the truth   
I'm not very experienced in the one night stand department. Sad to say,   
I've been in a relationship with everyone I've ever gone to bed with."

"Are you saying I'm just a one night stand to you?" Girani asked in a   
hurt tone.

"Oh! Uh, no! Of course not!" he blurted out.

"I'm just fucking with you, Okuna," she said with a smirk. "So to speak."

"Oh." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Christ, you really had me going   
there for a minute."

"Of all the strange twists and turns life has thrown me, I never in a   
million years would have thought I'd wind up in bed with you, Okuna,"   
she said, one eyebrow arched.

"Girani...I want to apologize for last night."

"Why?"

"Well, because...I took advantage of the situation and I shouldn't have."

"Are you serious? I practically raped you and you're apologizing to me?"   
She chuckled. "How green are you?"

"Well..."

"Get over yourself, Okuna. I'm a big girl and you did not compromise my   
virtue by sleeping with me last night. My 'virtue' has been nonexistent   
since I was fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Okuna asked. "That's kind of young, isn't it?"

"Why? How old were you?"

"Uh, eighteen," he admitted reluctantly. "I was kind of a late bloomer."

"Hmm," Girani said with a smirk. "You managed to catch up all right   
though. Either that or your dabo girl taught you well."

"So, you liked it then?" he asked.

"I liked it. You couldn't tell?"

"I assumed you did, but, uh, to tell you the truth I was feeling a   
little intimidated so--"

"Let's just say you helped me get through a rough patch," she said,   
scooting down into the bed. "Now, if you don't mind, we'd better try to   
get some sleep."

"You want to sleep?" Okuna asked in surprise.

"I did. Why?"

"I was just thinking that maybe..." He looked down at himself pointedly.

Girani squinted in the low light and frowned. "Again?"

"Well, only if you wanted to."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight, why?"

"I'm just doing the math," she said faintly. "I haven't been with a man   
in almost eight years and when I finally do try to give it a go I wind   
up with someone who has the constitution of a teenager."

"To be fair we haven't had sex in almost..." he looked at the chrono,   
"two hours? That's a pretty decent turnaround if you ask me."

"We've been on our feet for--"

"We're not on our feet now, Girani," Okuna said with a wicked grin as he   
cut her off. "Although, if you want to give it a try, I do some of my   
best moves in the shower."

"Fine, but you're going to wind up killing me." She threw back the   
covers in an invitation.

"I'm good, Girani," Okuna said with a grin and he dove into the bed,   
"but I'm not that good."

"What have I gotten myself into?" she muttered just before Okuna took   
her into his arms once again.

******

Garak walked into the darkened ward and sought out Julian who was busy   
logging charts.

"Has something happened?" Julian asked quietly.

"Can we go somewhere else to talk?"

Julian led Garak outside. As soon as the door was securely fastened   
behind them Garak quickly debriefed him on what was going on.

"We need to comm Figueiredo," Julian said as soon as he'd finished speaking.

"Not until the ship carrying Sloan reaches Bajoran space," Garak said.   
"Just in case their comms are being monitored by someone other than me,   
I want him close enough that he can't be intercepted."

"So now what?" Julian asked impatiently.

"Now we wait."

"I'm getting sick and tired of waiting, Garak!" Julian burst out. "If we   
don't get that cure soon this whole planet is going to be--"

"I know," Garak said quietly, putting his hand on Julian's shoulder.   
"Just be patient. Hopefully, in a few more hours we'll have the man   
responsible for all this."

"Then what?" Julian asked. "Even if we get him here there's still a   
chance he won't have what we need; what then?"

"Let's just take this one step at a time, doctor," Garak said calmly.   
"Once he gets here I'll be able to determine if he knows anything soon   
enough. If nothing else, he may provide us with enough evidence to   
embarrass the Federation into calling off their planned attack on Bajor   
for a while at least."

"Do you think he'll really talk? If Section 31 is as secretive as they   
seem to be he may be hard to break."

Garak's eyes went cold for a moment. "Perhaps, but no matter how   
well-trained he may be, there are ways of making even the strongest man   
break. You just have to know where to push. I may not have been an   
interrogator for several years but I have not forgotten how to do my   
job. If he truly does not know anything, we shall find out soon enough."

"Garak..." Julian said, with a frown. "I know we need this information,   
but perhaps you're not the best person to conduct the interrogation."

"And why is that?"

"Because..." Julian struggled for a moment on how best to phrase it.   
"Frankly Garak, you've changed. I don't know if you could live with--"

"Doctor, forgive me, but you have no idea of what I can or cannot live   
with," he said in a cool voice. "Wearing these robes has not changed who   
or what I am. Those children--my children--may die if we do not find   
this cure and soon. I am not so removed from Cardassia that I have   
forgotten what having a family means and what my duties are when it   
comes to preserving their safety. I promise you, I will do whatever I   
have to do."

"Except evacuate," Julian said before he could stop himself.

"Doctor--"

"No, I've been thinking about it," Julian said, cutting him off. "If we   
don't get what we need from Sloan then we should get your friend to beam   
as many of us as she can onto her ship and go somewhere--anywhere--until   
we find a cure."

"What good would it do?" Garak asked, turning his back toward him. "How   
many could we get out of Bajor without anyone noticing?"

"We could get some of them out at least!" Julian insisted. "We could go   
to some uninhabited planet somewhere; buy some time!"

"Without equipment, food--"

"As a last resort, Garak! It's better than nothing!"

Garak turned to him, his eyes dark with some unspoken emotion. "So we   
could watch them die slowly and in pain rather than offer them a quick   
death?"

"I can't--I can't--" Julian shut his eyes and balled his fists in   
frustration. "Damn it, I can't just wait to die here, Garak! I can't   
just stand back and look at these people knowing what's going to happen   
to them! Not when I know that if I had enough time and the proper   
equipment I could fix this!"

"I know what you're going through, doctor." Garak said quietly.

"Of course you do; you're here, aren't you?" Julian said, running his   
hand through his hair in frustration.

"No. I mean I know what it's like to look into the future and see only   
death. I know what being powerless feels like." Garak looked at him   
steadily. "After you've faced it enough times you begin to realize that   
there is a certain calm introspection that comes with acceptance."

"Fuck acceptance, Garak! And fuck the Prophets and all this religious   
shite and everything that goes with it! I'm sick of it!" He rounded on   
the Cardassian. "If these 'gods' of yours were more than just some   
damned wormhole aliens then they'd be here helping us! They would hand   
us the cure and stop the Dominion all in one fell swoop! Aren't 'they'   
supposed to care? Isn't that the whole point of your conversion?"

"No," Garak said, stepping up to him and taking his arms in a rough   
grip. He stared hard into Julian's eyes. "The point of my 'conversion',   
as you call it, is that I needed to believe in something and they were   
here--this place was here when I needed it the most!"

"You could have tried asking me for help when you needed it," Julian   
said. "You could have given me some time--

"You rejected--"

"No! Goddamn it, Garak, if we're going down let's at least be honest   
with each other. You had five years to do something and you didn't! I   
want to know once and for all how you could change for him when you   
couldn't do it for me! Why not me?" he asked, almost begging. He no   
longer cared about trying to appear strong or maintaining a façade. If   
he was going to die then he had to know. "What did the Founder have that   
I didn't? Why was it so much easier for you to trust him and everyone   
else than it was for you to trust me? God! I was only gone three and a   
half months--that's all! One minute you were Garak and when I returned   
you were a whole different person! Why? How? How did he do this to   
you--tell me!"

Garak relaxed his grip and stepped back. "I didn't--"

"You changed!" Julian insisted. "You became," and he gave a humorless   
bark of laughter, "you became an officer in Starfleet for him--in three   
months! You became a father, you gained the respect of people who I   
worked with for five years--five years! I spent five years getting to   
know those people, working side by side with them, sharing time with   
them, healing them and shedding blood with them! I thought I had their   
respect--I thought they knew me, and yet they couldn't even tell I was   
gone! In the last three months you were down here all I heard from   
anyone is 'where's Garak?', 'have you spoken to Garak yet?', 'you two   
made such a wonderful couple'! They still can't see me even after all   
this time! Even now the goddamn shapeshifter seems more real to them   
than I do! And as for you--you went from an exile to a valued member of   
the team; of the entire community! How did that happen?"

"I didn't change," Garak said finally. "I merely...evolved. There is a   
difference between the two."

"Explain it to me," Julian said, moving closer to him. "Explain it to me   
so I can 'evolve' as well. I really want to, Garak; I want to be the   
kind of man who can make Elim Garak love him so much that he's willing   
to become someone else. I want to be just like you. I want to be the   
kind of man that can make the whole world seem emptier if he's not around."

Garak said nothing; he merely searched Julian's gaze with his own,   
allowing him to see more than mere words could ever impart. It suddenly   
dawned on him that at times, though they were nearly the same height, in   
his mind Garak had seemed to tower over him. He never really had,   
though, Julian thought as he stared into the other man's pale blue eyes.   
They had always been the same: he just never allowed himself to   
acknowledge it before. They weren't the same in terms of their   
backgrounds, or their races, or the life experiences that had brought   
them to this point in time--but then, those were just details, weren't   
they?

They might be different in many small ways, but they were the same in   
that they were just flesh and blood and bone. They were not the men each   
had created for the benefit of the other. They were the same in that   
Garak needed him just as much as he needed Garak. Neither was ever the   
tower of solitude they wished the world to see. He stood there, feeling   
truth strike at him like a bolt of lightning, more naked and vulnerable   
than he had ever felt, but in his vulnerability he also knew that he was   
not alone and probably never had been.

For so long he had thought of Garak as some kind of mountain to conquer,   
his past a mystery, his very presence almost intimidating. Being friends   
with Elim Garak was for him like petting a tamed tiger and waiting for   
it to bite back. It had seemed thrilling and dangerous at the time, but   
it was never real. Looking into the other man's eyes now, he no longer   
saw the enigma that was Elim Garak. He saw the man.

Finally.

Garak cupped his chin in his hands and kissed him softly. It was   
strange, Julian thought as Garak's lips brushed his. He didn't feel what   
he thought he would at this moment. There was no rush of sexual energy,   
no passion behind the kiss, it was less a gesture of intimacy and more   
like an apology passing between them. The kiss lingered and he melted   
into the pressure of it. He apologized with an answering caress. I'm   
sorry for never seeing you, he kissed. I'm sorry for waiting so long.   
I'm so sorry I was too blind to appreciate you and that it took so much   
to get us both here to realize that.

He felt Garak's fingers skim his jaw line, testing the roughness of his   
new beard. So sweet, Julian thought. Time slowed and he allowed himself   
to breathe in the moment they were creating together. He felt Garak's   
lips tremble and hesitate, knowing the spell was about to be broken and   
wishing differently. He followed Garak's light retreat, willing him   
back. A last kiss was given; the slightly more determined set of the   
other man's lips pronouncing it as such. He began to miss him even   
before Garak pulled away.

"Why?" Julian asked, not really knowing himself what the question was   
referring to.

"Because it was time," was all he said before he enfolded him in his   
arms and kissed him again.

Julian dropped his hands to Garak's waist and pulled him closer, their   
mouths gliding together with a familiarity shared by long-time lovers.   
Their moment returned like an answered prayer and Julian tasted the   
other man's lips again. Why was the idea of this so nerve-wracking   
before? Julian thought. He opened his mouth and traced the contours of   
Garak's lips with his tongue. The other man gasped and answered that   
caress with one of his own. Their tongues dueled in an intimate dance.

Once, when Julian was very young and painfully inexperienced, he'd read   
a book that said kissing was the prelude to intimacy: the movements of   
your tongue should reflect what it is your body longs to do. He'd   
laughed at it then, but now he burned with the knowledge of what Garak's   
kisses were communicating.

He penetrated Julian with his tongue, caressing him and tasting his most   
intimate depths. The slide of their lips was like the slide of skin   
against wet skin, lovers entangled in an ancient dance. Garak's hands   
framed his face, holding him there, and he could easily imagine those   
hands holding his hips as they merged. He brought his hands up to   
Garak's face as well, one hand sinking into the thick black hair at the   
nape of his neck while his finger traced the ridge that ran from the top   
of Garak's ear to a point on his jaw line. The Cardassian shuddered and   
Julian imagined his mouth following that line of flesh, teasing it with   
his tongue as Garak writhed under him. Sweet torture. He moved until   
their chests and groins touched and even through their clothes they   
could feel one another.

It was insane. They were facing so much, but right now he just needed--

"Dr. Bashir!" Perreira said, running out of the tent causing them to   
pull apart hastily. "It's Ziyal!"

Julian hurried into the tent, vaguely aware that Garak was following   
them. The spell was over and his ardor cooled as though doused by a   
bucket of ice water. When he got to Ziyal's biobed, Jake was in a panic.

"The alarms just started going off! I didn't know what to do!"

Garak stepped up to pull Jake aside. "Come on, son. We have to let the   
doctors do their work."

"I'm not leaving her!" Jake said pulling away from him. "What's   
happening?!?"

Julian ignored him as he tried to get Ziyal stabilized. He punched the   
commands into the neuroscanner, then cursed as he saw what was happening   
on the screen. "Give me 2 ccs of morphonolog and 5 ccs of pectrinal   
chloride!" He dropped the stasis field as soon as Perreira handed him   
the hypo and pressed it against Ziyal's throat.

"No change, doctor." Perreira said grimly.

"How's the fetus?" Julian asked, refilling the hypo to try again.

"In distress."

"What does that mean?" Jake asked, struggling against the hold Garak had   
on him.

"Garak, I need you to get him out of here now!" Julian ordered.

"I'm not--!" Jake collapsed, falling into Garak's arms.

Perreira started forward but Garak stopped him. "He's merely   
unconscious. I employed a Vulcan acupressure technique. He'll be fine."

"Put him in a cot somewhere and page Girani," Julian said, injecting   
Ziyal once again. "I need 20 ccs of prednisolone!" He didn't look up as   
Garak carried the young man out of the room.

"We're losing her," Perreira said, handing him the hypo. "Do you want to   
try the synaptic stimulator?"

Julian focused on the images on the screen. "It's too late for that," he   
said, setting the bio field for full life support as he moved the   
scanner down to the fetus. "Put the fetal monitor on her and then go   
find the specs for an artificial womb. I have to go speak to Jake. If   
I'm not back when Girani gets here, get her up to speed, then I want the   
two of you to get started on modifying whatever equipment you need to   
save this baby."

"Fuck," Perreira looked down at their patient. "They've only been   
married two days."

"I know," Julian said grimly as he went to find Jake.

By the time Julian made it to Jake's bedside, he was just beginning to   
stir. Girani rushed in and Julian silently motioned for her to join   
Perreira in the back. When Jake finally opened his eyes, he only had to   
take one look at Julian's face to know what had happened.

"She's dead, isn't she?"

"I'm sorry," Julian said. "The nanovirus destroyed her brain stem. There   
was nothing we could do."

Jake began to weep; Garak gathered him in his arms like he would Lewin   
or Kela.

"We need to discuss--" Julian began.

"No, doctor. Not now." Garak said. "Go do whatever you need to do. I'll   
take Jake over to the Temple until he's calm enough to face this."

"All right." Julian watched sadly as Garak pulled the young man to his   
feet and led him toward the small house of worship.

"What happened?" Krath Milnar asked as he looked up from his cot.

"Are you in pain?" Julian asked, finally noticing that the Deputy   
Minister was awake.

"I'm fine. Did something happen to that boy's wife?" he asked weakly.

Julian didn't answer him. "Ensign Perreira will be out in a moment with   
your medication, Minister. Until then, try to get some rest."

When he got to the scanning area, Girani was looking at the readings on   
Ziyal's biobed and cursing under her breath. "I should have been here. I   
should have insisted on taking the first shift!"

"You couldn't have prevented this from happening, Girani. None of us   
could," Julian said quietly. "The nanovirions reached their final stage   
and did what they were programmed to do. We had no way of stopping that   
process."

Girani's face crumpled in pain for just a moment before she managed to   
get herself together. "What happened? Do we know?"

"From what I can gather from the scans we took, as soon as the   
nanovirions reached some sort of critical mass they attacked her brain   
stem."

Girani looked at the readings from the fetal monitor. "We need to   
transfer this baby and soon. Do we have any viable surrogates?"

Julian shook his head. "All of the female monks are too old or have   
undergone radical hysterectomies. I looked over all of their medical   
records shortly after Jake and Ziyal arrived as a precaution."

"I could do it," she said, looking up from the monitor. "You could   
perform the procedure."

"We don't have enough time."

"We can keep Ziyal stable for at least two more days--"

"No Girani, it's too dangerous," he said. "We've had this discussion   
before. I told you that in your case the best way for us to proceed   
would be to clone another uterus, but first we would have to repair all   
of the damage left behind when you were...when your uterus was   
originally removed."

Perreira looked at Girani, the sympathy in his eyes obvious as he   
realized what they were saying. "What about a pseudosac instead?" he asked.

"We'd still have to go in and remove the scar tissue--"

"Not in Girani--what about Jake? He's the father; it's possible, right?"

Julian shook his head. "Even if it were ethical given his state of mind   
right now, we couldn't risk it. If the nanovirus were somehow   
transferred to Jake during the procedure, humans might become infected   
next and then there really would be no stopping it."

"All right then; what about a pseudo sac in someone else? One of the   
monks or one of us? Garak or even me?" Perreira suggested.

"You'd agree to carry this baby?" Girani asked dubiously.

"If it meant saving it, then yes, absolutely," Perreira answered.

"Not that it isn't a generous offer, Perreira, but use your brain. If   
Jake couldn't carry it because he's human, neither could you," she said,   
rolling her eyes.

"Right, sorry. I didn't get a lot of sleep," he said sheepishly.

"You meant well," Julian said. "The idea you had about having one of the   
monks carry the baby might work but for the fact that most of the female   
monks who are still healthy enough to carry it to term probably have the   
same problems with scarring Girani does. During the Occupation when the   
Cardassians had their female prisoners sterilized it wasn't done under   
the best of circumstances by experienced surgeons."

"To say the least," Girani murmured. "What about one of the men? A   
hybrid or Bajoran?" she suggested in a stronger voice.

"I'm sure one of them would agree if it meant saving the life of the   
Emissary's grandchild, or any child for that matter," he said, "but the   
hybrids who would be the best match under the circumstances are too sick   
to undergo that type or surgery and the purebloods, while not as sick,   
are mostly elderly. This type of emergency surgery is a strain on even   
the healthiest man. The sudden influx of artificial hormones and the   
strain on their already compromised organs could hurt them and the fetus   
both."

Perreira frowned. "All that's left then is an artificial womb--but you   
already knew that, which is why you asked for the specs right off."

"I had to have a contingency plan in case the worst happened," Julian   
replied. "I made sure when the medical replicators arrived that they   
were programmed with the ability to produce the artificial womb. I   
didn't go ahead and set one up simply because we didn't really have the   
room, and I was hoping that since Ziyal seemed to be improving we   
wouldn't need one."

"The fetus is only eight weeks gone," Girani said with a scowl. "You   
can't transfer a fetus into an artificial womb at less than 14 weeks   
gestation."

"It's all we've got."

"Julian, you can't just make up medical facts as you go along--!"

"We'll make it work!" Julian insisted. "It's all we've got. If we can't   
get this baby in an artificial womb it will die--period."

"There are risks even under ideal circumstances, of which these are   
not," she said in a hard tone. "A child of this gestational age has less   
than a ten percent chance of surviving the transfer and of that ten   
percent it only has a one percent chance of being born without a defect   
of some kind. We can not do this procedure without Jake's consent. He   
may not want to risk bringing a profoundly disabled child into this world."

"I know the numbers, Girani," Julian said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I   
want you to stay here and monitor Ziyal and the fetus. Perreira, you go   
wake up Okuna. Get him up to date as quickly as you can, then put him on   
building the artificial womb. He worked in a pediatric emergency ward on   
Earth during his residency so he's probably more familiar with them than   
anyone else here. Most of the pregnancies Girani and I have handled were   
more run-of-the-mill and I've never actually had to use an artificial   
womb before. Have you?" he asked, turning to Girani.

"No," she admitted. "The O'Brien baby was the closest I've ever come to   
even seeing part of that procedure. Yet another reason why I don't like   
this idea."

"I'm the one who performed it then and even I'm not happy about this,   
but it's all we've got." He turned to Perreira. "After Okuna gets   
started on putting it together, I need you to be on the floor. Krath   
Milnar is awake so chances are everyone else will need to be sedated   
again as well. I want to keep them under as long as we can. The less   
pain they're in, the calmer they remain, the better. I'll go speak to   
Jake. If he refuses to go through with the procedure then all we've   
wasted is a little time. I'm fairly certain he'll decide to take the risk."

They both nodded and Perreira headed out to find Okuna. Before Julian   
could follow him, Girani called him back.

"Julian--if we can't put together the artificial womb in time I want you   
to consider implanting the fetus in me."

"We've discussed this--"

"Not an ectopic pregnancy we haven't."

"That's because it would be far too dangerous, Girani. You're an OB; you   
already know that!"

"A fifty percent chance is better than no chance at all," she said   
stubbornly. "I want to do this. It would be far easier to give me the   
hormones than it would a man and even without a uterus I would have a   
better chance of bringing the fetus to term given the circumstances."

"Suicide is not an option," he told her.

"With modern--"

"We're stuck on Bajor in the middle of a goddamn makeshift medical   
facility!" Julian pointed out forcefully. "I appreciate your dedication,   
Girani, but I need you alive and on your feet if we are *all* going to   
survive this. If that means I have to make the decision to put this one   
child's life aside in order to save the lives of the rest of us,   
including you, then so be it! Understood?"

"Understood," she said tersely.

Julian nodded, then headed toward the Temple. The whole way there he   
thought about what he had just said to Girani about trading the life of   
Jake Sisko's child for the lives of the rest of their patients.

For the greater good.

With each step he wondered if that made him any better than the men who   
put them in this situation to begin with. The answer he came up with did   
not settle well upon his soul.


	11. Life and Death

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Life and Death

 

"You had sex with Girani!?!"

Okuna woke up with a snort to find himself staring up into the accusing  
eyes of Adam Perreira. "What the fuck time is it?" he asked in a sleep  
graveled voice.

"Screw the time--you had SEX with GIRANI!"

"It's not even four in the morning! Christ, Perreira!" Okuna groaned,  
looking at his bedside chrono.

"Yeah, well, some shit went down and Doc Bashir sent me to brief you.  
I'm surprised Girani didn't kick you with her cloven hoofs when she  
hopped out of bed earlier."

"Well, I was pretty dead to the world--"

"I'll just bet!" Perreira snorted.

"Knock it off," Okuna groused, looking around for his shorts. "You know,  
when you say shit like that you almost come off like you're jealous or  
something."

"Jealous? Of you knocking boots with Girani?" He made a gagging noise.  
"Don't even say that. It brings up all of these horrible images."

"Knock it off." He sat up in bed. "She's not that bad."

"Not that bad? A few days ago you referred to her as the 'Wicked Bitch  
of Bajor' and today she's 'not so bad'? Oh man, I knew when Alita dumped  
you it had to be a huge blow to your self-esteem, but still! What  
happened to your standards? Of both of us vowing to never, ever go there  
under any circumstances? I am ashamed to call myself your friend right now."

"Fuck off and hand me my shorts already." The aforementioned clothing  
flew through the air with great force, and Okuna sputtered as he got a  
faceful of previously worn underwear. He pulled them off his face and  
said, "Thanks," before tugging them on. "What's the skinny?"

"Ziyal didn't make it."

"Fuck." Okuna looked up at him. "I knew it was a long shot when she fell  
into the coma but I was hoping....damn."

"We all were," Perreira said in a subdued voice. "Doc Bashir and Girani  
have her on life support for now and the fetus is still hanging on. They  
want you to put together an artificial womb using the medical  
replicators Krath brought with him."

"The fetus is only eight weeks along," Okuna said with a frown as he  
walked out of Girani's room and into his own.

Perreira followed him, leaning on the doorjamb as Okuna hastily dressed.  
"We already had this discussion. I even offered to ruin my girlish  
figure instead but I got shut down."

"That was stupid. If the virions were passed onto you during the  
procedure--"

"Yeah, yeah--I've already heard it," he said with a scowl. "A guy  
finally steps up to the plate to make a noble, self-sacrificing gesture  
and all he gets for his efforts is a lot of grief!"

"Nobody ever accused you of being more brains than beauty, Perreira,"  
Okuna retorted, sliding a sweater over his head and reaching for his  
shoes. "Why didn't they just transfer the fetus into Girani? That's a  
far safer procedure to perform and Bashir's done it before."

A funny expression crossed Perreira's face. "You want me to toss you a  
pair of socks or what?"

"Yeah." He caught them in mid-air and shoved his feet into them. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Why didn't they just transport the fetus into Girani?"

"Look, you really need to ask your new booty buddy that yourself,"  
Perreira said, moving as if to leave. "You need to meet her to go over  
the specs anyway. I have to go take care of the patients. Their sedation  
is beginning to wear off and after the news I just got I'm tempted to  
turn the hypo on myself."

"No problem," Okuna said with a frown. "Hey! Before you go, how's Jake?"

Perreira's expression was grim. "Man, how do you think?"

*****

Jake sat in the hard wooden pew staring grimly at the quilt hanging  
behind the altar. He had been married for two whole days and he was  
already a widower.

After the tears had finally dried up, the anger inside of him began to  
build instead. He wanted to scream, to hit something, but all he could  
do was sit there and stare at nothing.

Garak had brought him here and sat beside him as he struggled with his  
grief. The Cardassian said nothing; he just bowed his head as though he  
were praying.

"Why do you even bother?" Jake asked.

"Excuse me?" Garak said, looking up at him.

"Why are you praying? They aren't really gods. There is no such thing as  
a god," Jake said harshly. "If there were then Ziyal--Zee..." A sob  
caught in Jake's throat and he tried to stop the rush of grief that came  
with it.

Garak laid his hand on his shoulder. "I wasn't praying, son. I was  
remembering."

"Remembering what?"

"The grief that I felt when I was where you are right now."

"You were never where I am, Garak!" Jake spat out. "You might have lost  
the Founder but you still have Dr. Bashir--the real Dr. Bashir! You  
still have your children! Ziyal's gone! My son is gone! They aren't on  
some goddamned asteroid in the Gamma Quadrant!"

"I'm not referring to Julian or the children. I'm talking about...about  
my wife, Anwen."

Jake stared at him in surprise. "You...you were married?"

Garak nodded. "Although until now I never thought of her as my wife, but  
for all intents and purposes that's what she was."

"On Cardassia?"

Garak shook his head. "No. She was Bajoran."

"Bajoran?" Jake frowned, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his  
palms. "She was your comfort woman?"

Garak chuckled. "No. If anyone, myself especially, ever even suggested  
to Anwen that she was a comfort woman she'd do them permanent injury."

"I don't understand. How is that possible?"

"It was...we were living underground at the time," Garak said quietly.  
"During the Occupation. She was in the Resistance and I had made some  
very bad decisions which forced me to seek shelter with her terrorist  
cell. As time passed, we grew closer until one day she just decided that  
we were going to be together from then on."

Despite his grief, or perhaps just to push it aside if only for a  
moment, Jake asked, "She decided?"

"Anwen was a remarkably stubborn woman," Garak told him with a soft  
smile. "I was resistant at first, but she wore me down. During the  
Occupation there was no such thing as a formal marriage, not between a  
Cardassian and a Bajoran especially. We didn't have the kind of bonding  
ceremony you and Ziyal shared. Our 'wedding' was just her letting the  
others know where she stood, then moving her things to my campfire. We  
lived that way for nearly a year."

"She died?"

Garak nodded. "She was pregnant with our child when it happened. I  
never...I never even had the chance to be happy about becoming a father.  
It was my own fault. You can't know what it was like for us, for me,  
back then. Even now if a Bajoran began a relationship with a Cardassian  
there would be problems for them, but not like it used to be. She had  
just told me she was pregnant and I got so angry with her...I don't know  
if you and Ziyal were together long enough to understand that kind of  
anger. Only someone you truly love can possibly drive you that mad."

"Ziyal...Ziyal used to piss me off so bad when she would freak out over  
her dad finding out about us." Jake felt the tears course down his  
cheeks but he ignored them. "I've never loved someone that much and been  
driven that crazy at the same time, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean," Garak said kindly. "The worst part was  
that I never had the chance to tell her everything I should have told  
her when she was alive. I never told her how much I loved her. I never  
even told myself."

"You didn't?"

"Sitting here with you, right now, is the very first time I've ever  
allowed myself to even say those words out loud as a matter of fact."

"I told Zee I loved her a hundred times a day and look what good it did  
me," Jake said bitterly.

"Allowing someone to know exactly how you feel about them is a gift,  
Jake. Ziyal felt that every time you said those words to her."

"That's bullshit!" he shouted, his anger suddenly returning with a  
vengeance. "It doesn't matter anymore anyway! She's dead! Our baby is  
dead! Our life together is gone and it's all my fault!" Jake glared at  
him through angry tears.

"It wasn't your fault!"

"Yes it was! Everyone wondered how she got pregnant--I could see it in  
their faces! I mean, it's just a shot every few months, right? These  
things don't just happen anymore, right?" His voice was low, hard. "You  
want to know how it happened? It happened because I got her pregnant on  
purpose! I wanted her to be with me so I stopped taking the shots! I was  
a selfish prick and because of me she's dead!"

"No, Jake--"

"They said the pregnancy might have made her sicker--if I hadn't done  
that she'd still be here!"

"Did you unleash the virus that killed her? Did you?" Garak shot back.  
"Unless you can take credit for that, you didn't kill her, Jake. I know  
what that guilt feels like and it took me years to understand what you  
need to understand right now--before you leave this temple! You did not  
kill your wife! You may have made some poor choices, but the only sin  
you are guilty of is being able to love someone without limitations.  
That is a precious thing, Jake! Had my child lived--" Garak's eyes  
filled with tears of his own and he turned away quickly. "Had Anwen's  
child lived I only pray that I would have been a good enough father to  
raise him to be a man like you."

Jake pressed his forehead against the cold wood of the pew in front of  
him. "I can't--I can't take this. I can't do this by myself. I just can't."

"I know," Garak said softly.

"I keep...keep thinking it's just a bad dream and I'll wake up in a  
minute. I keep thinking that she's just within my reach; if I could just  
touch her then the nightmare would be over." He choked up, his voice  
hitching as he spoke. "She's not coming back, is she?"

"I'm afraid not, son."

"I don't understand," Jake said, shaking his head. "It doesn't seem  
real. Medical science has come so far--we can clone organs, create  
cybernetic limbs--how can Ziyal just die? How is that even possible?"

"I don't know how to answer that. I wish I could, but I can't. No more  
than I could tell you how I came to be sitting with you in this pew. The  
only truth I can offer you is that life is full of pain, and right now,  
what you are experiencing: this is as bad as it gets. They say," and  
Garak paused for a moment, "they say it gets better in time. They say  
the pain fades away, but I won't lie to you. Years from now it will  
still hurt, you'll still have dreams about her. I still remember her  
face, her smell, the exact number of freckles she had scattered across  
her nose. It doesn't end. We take it all with us; the pain, the guilt,  
and the memories of the person we loved. You may love again, marry, have  
children, but she will always be there, Jake."

"So I have to spend the rest of my life living with a ghost?" he spat out.

"Truthfully?" Garak nodded in the affirmative. "But you can think of it  
as either a blessing or a curse. Ziyal loved you, son. She loved you  
enough to fight everything her father taught her about love. Gul Dukat  
treated his women like they were his pampered pets. He gave them baubles  
and soft beds then when he tired of them he discarded them with a  
handful of latinum and a clean conscience because he figured that he had  
done more than most by merely leaving them in a slightly better  
circumstance then when he found them. That's what Ziyal grew up thinking  
love was. You're the one--the only one--who ever bothered to teach her  
any different."

"You know the really stupid part?" Jake asked with a harsh laugh. "Right  
now, more than anything, I just wish my dad was here. How stupid is  
that?" he asked before his laughter once again dissolved into painful sobs.

Garak pulled him in close and held him as the young man sobbed into his  
chest. "It's not stupid to want your father to be here, Jake. I can't--I  
can't even begin to pretend to know what your father would say to you if  
he were here now. I never had a father, not like yours, and although I  
am trying to learn, I haven't really figured out what being a parent  
means yet. I do know what it's like to feel the way you feel right now  
though. I know what that pain in your chest feels like. I know how much  
it hurts to even breathe. I know, Prophets--I know how cold you  
feel--like you'll never be warm ever again."

"Does it stop?" Jake cried out. "I just want it to stop!"

"Some day. Not today. Not for a long time," Garak said in a low voice.  
"But eventually, after the years have worn it down and enough time has  
passed, it settles into a small ache and a scar that you'll wear as a  
reminder, but if you are very, very lucky you'll find someone or  
something to help take your mind off of it. You'll find your focus again  
and you'll survive. You have to. If not then what is it Ziyal died for?"

"She didn't die for anything!" Jake sobbed. "She's just dead! Someone  
just killed her because they didn't care who died! She was murdered for  
no reason!"

"She died trying to keep your son alive, Jake! She died wanting nothing  
more than to be a part of you! If you follow her then nothing of Ziyal  
will be left!"

"I just want her back--I just want her to come back," Jake said, hugging  
Garak hard as though he were a small child.

"I know. I wish I could give her back to you but I can't," Garak told  
him. "I wish I could change a lot of things. I wish I could have those  
last few moments with Anwen back so I could be the man she wanted me to  
be, the man she deserved. I wish I could go back and stop any of this  
from ever happening, but wishing won't change anything. You can't go  
back, just forward. That's the cruelest part of survival. Men like you  
and I, men who know what it feels like to have your life taken from you  
yet are forced to wake up every morning and go on, have no other choice.  
We just have to survive one breath at a time."

From the shadows Julian listened to Garak's words as Jake cried out in  
his pain. He had been there for a while, long enough to finally  
understand who Anwen was and what she meant to Garak. Earlier he had  
accused Garak of changing himself for the Founder who had usurped his  
place; he now understood why Garak had disagreed with him. He hadn't  
changed, not really. He'd just been allowed the freedom to be who he  
always was: imperfect, dedicated, grounded, but still Garak all the same.

The same Garak who tortured Odo for information was just as capable of  
offering comfort to a boy whose world was ending. The same Garak who  
nearly killed him and an entire species without so much as hesitating  
was the same man who had held him as they kissed no more than an hour  
before. How one could reconcile the two he did not know nor did he care.  
Garak was merely Garak; whether he wore the cloak of a monk or a tailor,  
a spy or a freedom fighter, a killer or a father, he was still the same  
man. Why couldn't he see that before now?

"I miss her," Jake said in a near whisper.

"So do I."

"My dad never cried after my mom died," Jake said, pulling away from  
Garak and scrubbing at his face which was now puffy and swollen from grief.

"Yes, he did," Garak said. "You just never saw him."

"Did you?" he asked roughly.

"For three days until I couldn't cry any longer. I just touched her hair  
and grieved and wished I would die, but I didn't. I never knew why until  
now."

"I don't believe in that 'everything happens for a reason' crap. This  
didn't happen for a reason!"

"No. You're right. But we still have to get through it. You still need  
to keep going."

"For Ziyal?" Jake snorted humorlessly.

"Yes," Garak answered.

"For Ziyal," Jake whispered, dropping his chin to his chest, silent  
tears running down his cheeks.

Julian waited until Jake's tears slowed before approaching him. "Jake."

"Oh. Hi, doc," Jake said, rubbing his eyes and clearing his waterlogged  
throat hastily.

"I'm sorry to have to discuss this with you right now, but we have to  
talk about what to do with the baby."

"What do you mean?" Jake asked, clearing his throat again and wiping his  
nose on his sleeve.

"Ziyal is on life support--"

"She's alive?" Jake cut him off, sitting up in surprise. "Does this mean  
there's still a chance she can--?"

"No," Julian said with grim finality. "I'm sorry but Ziyal is gone.  
She's brain dead."

Jake's face fell and Julian felt as though he had killed her all over  
again. "Right. Sorry," Jake whispered, looking down at the floor aimlessly.

"We're keeping her body alive so the baby can still have a chance, but  
we need your permission to transfer him into an artificial womb."

"The baby is still okay?" he asked, his attention returning towards Julian.

"There are risks, Jake."

"If it means the baby will live, do whatever you need to do."

"It's not that easy. The fetus--"

"Oscar," Jake corrected him. "Ziyal told me to name him Oscar after my  
grandfather. It was important to her."

"Oscar," Julian replied in an even tone. "He is only eight weeks along.  
Although eight weeks is significant in a Bajoran pregnancy, he still has  
another ten weeks to gestate before we would even consider delivering  
him. Normally the earliest we would ever consider viable for transport  
into an artificial womb is twelve to fourteen weeks gestation. What we  
are suggesting is highly irregular and very experimental. Okuna is  
attempting to compensate for the earlier gestation point, but if we fail  
your son could die or be born with profound birth defects and/or  
developmental delays."

"I see."

"I know this is hard, but if you don't want to risk it I should tell you  
that most parents when given these odds would choose to allow nature to  
take its course."

"Chief O'Brien's baby was only about eight weeks along and he was human,  
right?" Jake asked.

"It's not the same thing. We don't have a living surrogate to gestate  
the baby until term. A machine is only programmed to do so much. We can  
compensate for the natural hormones released during critical points in a  
normal Bajoran pregnancy by introducing steroids and growth hormones,  
but a machine can never take the place of a living host. We don't know  
why babies do better in a real womb; they just do. I promise you that if  
this is the way you want to go that my team and I will do everything  
within our power to keep Oscar alive and healthy."

"Do it," Jake said, his voice growing stronger.

"Are you sure you understand what I mean when I say the baby could be  
born with profound disabilities?" Julian asked. "It could be anything  
from physical deformities to severe delays in his development. He may  
remain a child for the rest of his, and your, life."

"He's my son. Mine and Ziyal's. No matter what happens, I'll love him."

"Jake--"

"No! I understand what you're saying!" Jake said, cutting him off. "I'll  
deal with it! If he can't walk then we'll get him a hoverchair so he can  
race his friends down the promenade. If he's blind, we'll get him a  
visor or ocular implants so he can see. If he has a deformity of some  
sort that can't be fixed, he'll still be beautiful because he'll always  
be a part of Zee." Jake's voice hitched up at his wife's name, but he  
cleared his throat and continued. "And if he never grows up and stays a  
child forever then I'll still always get to be his dad. I understand  
what you are telling me, now just go save my son, please. I know--I know  
Ziyal is gone, but if there is even a chance of saving this baby, no  
matter what, I know it's what she would want us to do."

"I'll let the others know of your decision." Julian nodded. "As soon as  
the womb is ready we'll come get you so you can be there when it happens."

"And Ziyal?" Jake asked.

"After the transfer is complete, we'll turn off her life support."

"And then she'll be..." Jake shut his eyes.

"And then her body will be, yes."

"I'll be there," he said after a moment.

"We'll come get you as soon as we're ready."

As Garak placed a comforting hand on Jake's shoulder, his and Julian's  
eyes met. Only they knew that saving the baby would probably be an act  
of futility. Unless this Sloan gave them the answers they needed,  
Ziyal's death would only be the first of many.

*****

 

Okuna walked into the medical scanning room and paused for a moment at  
Ziyal's bedside. "Damn. She was so young..."

Girani looked up from her PADD and nodded. Her eyes held a haunted look.  
"I really thought we were going to pull this one off. Oh well, win some  
lose some, right?"

"Girani, it's okay to be upset about losing a patient--"

"I know that!" Girani snapped, tossing her PADD onto the desk. "This  
isn't the first time I've had a patient die on me, Okuna." Despite her  
words, her hands trembled slightly as she looked at the too still form  
lying in the biobed.

"But this one got to you, didn't she?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yeah." She shook her head. "It's stupid--I should know better--"

Okuna placed his hand on her cheek. "The day you stop caring is the day  
you should hang it up. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Girani cleared her throat and moved away from his caress. "We still have  
a baby to save. Did Perreira brief you?"

Okuna placed aside the sudden pang of hurt he felt by her rejection and  
focused instead on the business at hand. "Bashir wants us to build an  
artificial womb, I got it. I just don't understand why we don't go the  
safer route and use a living surrogate."

"No viable candidates," she answered shortly. "I made some notes on a  
PADD as to how we might compensate for the earlier gestational stage of  
the fetus. My only concerns are that introducing the fetus into an  
artificial environment combined with the steroids he'll need to jump  
start his lung development might induce a cytokine storm like the one  
the rest of the patients experienced. Plus, if this really is a 'smart  
virus' it may sense that the baby has switched environments and activate  
itself. So far the virus has remained dormant in the baby's system but--"

"Yeah, got you," Okuna said, taking the PADD from her and reading her  
notes. "When I was working in the NICU at the Stollery Children's  
Hospital on Earth we had a neonatologist there who was doing some really  
revolutionary work with fetal stasis units and artificial wombs. What we  
could do is instead of using the preprogrammed fetal environment in the  
A.W., we could program it to mimic what the baby would hear and  
experience if it were in a living womb. It's sort of the same thing as  
programming the machine to act as Ziyal's clone."

"Do we have time for that?"

"Maybe. It's still a risk. His theories still haven't been proven, but  
it may give us a chance. Most of these machines are considered stopgap  
care; a couple of weeks, no more than four, just long enough to complete  
lung development. Using it continuously for ten weeks is going to be  
problematic no matter what. If we take some of the key elements of a  
holoemitter and a medical replicator and combine it with the artificial  
womb, the machine may be able to keep up with the rapid chemical shifts  
present in a Bajoran pregnancy while providing the rest of the womb  
experience for the fetus--heartbeat, ambient noise, and movement. This  
doctor I was speaking of, Dr. Emile, he believed that the reason  
artificial wombs are less successful than surrogate care was because of  
the lack of stimulation the fetus received."

"Makes sense," Girani said with a nod. "Can you do it in the time we have?"

"I can. In fact I can have it done in a day or so if either you or  
Perreira can give me a hand. I can send a message to the Stollery in  
Alberta and get them to send me the programs. It's better than nothing."  
He looked up at Girani. "It's none of my business, but why didn't you  
volunteer to carry the fetus?"

"I did," she said. "Dr. Bashir decided it was too risky."

"Why? It would be much safer than--"

"Okuna--" She cut him off with a sigh. "Look, the reason I'm not a  
viable candidate is because during the Occupation I had a hysterectomy."

"What?" His shock must have been written all over his face because she  
averted her eyes as she spoke.

"When I was fourteen I was taken into a Gul's harem like a lot of other  
girls in my village were. Gul Nekt was very...'meticulous' about how he  
kept his women and slaves. After he--" She licked her lips. "After I was  
made a part of his household, he had me sterilized. He didn't want any  
half-breeds to deal with. The doctor he had on staff didn't really care  
about things like scarring. In order to receive a cloned uterus I would  
have to have the remnants of the first operation corrected and recover,  
then I could have my uterus replaced. He left my ovaries so I don't have  
to worry about that, but it would take at least a few weeks to do it  
right and we don't have the time or the resources. I'd also have to be  
on bed rest followed by restricted duty and since we're so completely  
overwhelmed as it is, combined with the effects of the virus on my system--"

"I understand," Okuna said quietly. "Why didn't you tell me about what  
happened to you before?"

"Why would I have?" she asked with a frown.

"Well, last night--"

"We had sex, Okuna," she said, rolling her eyes. "It was what it was;  
don't try to read anymore into it than that. I didn't approach you  
because I wanted a relationship, I just wanted an orgasm. You provided  
it and got something out of it in the process. Let's just leave it at that."

"I wasn't referring to the sex, Girani. I agree with you totally on that  
score," he said, schooling his features into a mask of cool disregard.  
"I just meant, as a physician working on this case, it would have been  
nice to have all of the facts. You told me that you were in the early  
planning stages of a pregnancy of your own so I naturally assumed you  
were a viable surrogate. Had I known that wasn't the case I could have  
started this work last night or even earlier. It might have even been a  
good idea to begin the build on the modified A.W. as soon as Ziyal went  
into a coma so we could have taken some of the strain off of her system."

"I'm sorry, I--" Girani began, looking slightly taken aback.

He shook his head. "No," he said, "don't apologize. It can't be helped  
and it's my own fault for not speaking up and asking you about the  
possibility earlier." He headed for the door, picking up the PADD from  
the desk, and pasted on a friendly smile for her benefit. "I'd better  
get moving on this. If you see Perreira before I do let him know I need  
him, okay?"

Girani gave him a strange look. "Of course. I'll comm you if anything  
happens."

"Thanks."

You dumb shit, he thought as he walked toward the comm unit. Of course  
it was just a fuck. Grow up and get over it. Girani is way out of your  
league and always has been. You have to stop this habit of falling for  
women who don't really want you.

After he was gone Girani stared at the closed door for a long time, her  
unhappy expression mirroring that of Okuna's perfectly.

 

******

 

"MacKelroy's starting to feel froggy again," Marquez said as he ate his  
breakfast. "He's gotten enough of his backbone back that now he's  
screaming for legal representation."

"Let him." Captain Figueiredo snorted and tasted her eggs. "Meu amor,  
pass me the salt?"

Alvaro handed her the small shaker and frowned. "Are you two sure that  
you're approaching this thing the right way? This MacKelroy is going to  
file a formal complaint the minute this ship docks at the next port and  
then both of you are going to be looking for new careers."

"What? You wouldn't support me if I was unemployed?" Fig asked as she  
bit into her breakfast.

Alvaro looked at her askance. "I'm an artist; you're the one who has  
been keeping me in paint all these years, remember?"

"I thought your paintings were selling really well lately, Alvaro,"  
Marquez said. "Didn't you just have a show recently?"

"At the National Gallery back on Earth," Fig answered for him. "The  
critics loved him and he sold six new paintings. I'm married to an  
artistic genius." She winked at her husband.

"That's great!" Roberto said, grinning at him. "You know, my sister just  
had another baby. I know you do mostly starscapes and stuff, but do you  
think you--"

"Roberto, Gabriella--I have been a Starfleet widower long enough to know  
when I'm being stonewalled," Alvaro said, looking slightly annoyed.  
"Stop trying to leave me out of the loop on this. What's going on? Why  
are you both risking your careers by screwing with this MacKelroy guy?"

Fig put down her fork. "Alvaro, it's classified. You know that."

Alvaro looked around the room pointedly. "We're in the Captain's dining  
room, it's just the three of us here now. I know when something is up.  
This started out as a regular mission and all of the sudden you,  
Roberto, and Xerk are conspiring together and beating the crap out of  
your fellow officers! I don't need to know all of the details, but I am  
curious as to why my wife, who has spent all of her adult life building  
a career she loves, is suddenly willing to toss all of it away. I think  
I am entitled to know that much, don't you?"

"Should I leave?" Roberto asked in a low voice.

Fig looked at him apologetically and nodded. After Marquez had left, she  
turned to her husband. "Alvaro--"

"Don't," he said. "Don't hand me the line about you having your orders  
and all that other merda! Tell me the truth. I want to know what's so  
important that you and your two most senior officers are willing to  
chuck everything you've ever worked for out of the nearest airlock."

Captain Figueiredo looked at her husband and shook her head. "I can't,  
Alvaro. Not yet."

"Gabriella," he said, "I know you have a job to do and I know that I  
can't always be in the know, but this is different. I know it and you  
know it."

"It's complicated."

"It's always complicated!" he burst out.

"Alvaro--"

"No, Gabriella," he stopped her. "I have been your husband for ten years;  
I left Earth for you, I agreed to put off starting a family so you could  
follow Gilhouley when he took over the task force, I've given up  
everything to be here with you and I have never asked you for anything.  
I know you have to keep secrets sometimes and I have accepted that, but  
now I want to know what's going on."

"I promised Gilhouley--" she began.

"Fuck Gilhouley!" Alvaro shouted. "I'm your husband, not him!"

"Don't start, Alvaro."

"Start what?"

"You know what!" Fig said, beginning to lose her temper as well.  
"Whenever we start this argument you always start slinging around  
Gilhouley's name like he's to blame for everything that goes wrong in  
our marriage!"

"I don't always bring him up, you do! That's the problem! I want to know  
what is going on with you because it affects our life, Gabriella--*our*  
life! And when I bring up *our* life together, Fitz Gilhouley's name  
always comes up in the conversation! I'm tired of having to compete for  
your attention and always losing!"

"Goddamn it, it is too early for this crap!" she cried. "Why are we  
rehashing this yet again? Why is it every few months you find the need to--"

"I bring it up because every time I try to have a serious discussion  
with you, you run and hide behind Fitz Gilhouley like he's some damned  
'get out of marriage for free' card!" Alvaro shot back. "You finally say  
you're taking a posting at the Academy so we can settle down and start a  
real life and Gilhouley drags us to Mars instead! I finally get you to  
discuss having a baby and Gilhouley gets his promotion and asks you to  
join this task force so you put that off! I ask you to come with me to  
Earth for my first showing in four years--*four years*--and you bail on  
me because Gilhouley calls you less than an hour before we're supposed  
to depart so you run off to Bajor instead! Every time, Gabriella! Not  
just once or twice, but every time!"

"I'm an officer in Starfleet! I have to follow the orders I'm given!"  
Fig said, her face red. "It's my job; what do you expect me to do? Say no?"

"I expect you to take a pass every once in a while, Gabriella. Not every  
time, just when it's important! Don't tell me that's not possible  
either--Abramson does it. He makes sure to be there when his kids and  
grandkids need him, he managed to have a career *and* a family--"

"First off, Butch isn't a captain on his first command! I've only been  
captain for a few years; I'm still building a reputation! If I don't  
work my ass off and prove I have what it takes every single day, I'll  
lose momentum! You knew when you married me what my goals were!  
Secondly, Butch is a man--"

"What difference does that make?"

"Excuse me?" Figueiredo said with a disbelieving bark of laughter. "It  
makes a hell of a lot of difference! How many female captains do you  
know in my position?"

"There are plenty of female captains in Starfleet!"

"Yes, there are lots and lots of female captains! They head up medical  
ships and science vessels, and the occasional Galaxy class vessel, but  
how many of them command in deep space in a forward area or belong to a  
battle-ready task force? Not a lot! The fact that Fitz Gilhouley asked  
me to take this job says something--it means something! Why can't you  
see that?"

"Yeah, it says something," Alvaro agreed with a dark scowl. "It says  
that you, Abramson, and Gilhouley are still the three musketeers; always  
ready to cowboy up and ride balls out into whatever action is out there!  
Great, good for you, but let me ask you something: When should I expect  
you to stop being Gilhouley's go-to girl and start being my wife? When  
are you going to show me a tenth of the loyalty you show him, because  
I'm really curious about when that's going to happen! I realize that I'm  
not apart of your little Starfleet club, but I assumed that when I  
married you it entitled me to a little of your time and your trust!"

"What do you want me to say? You feel out of the loop and unloved so  
therefore I should just give up my career and make babies?" Fig asked  
angrily. "Yes, Alvaro! I don't give you enough attention so excuse me  
while I just give up the opportunity of a lifetime so I can watch you  
have the life you want while I change diapers and make formula all day?"

"I never said you should quit, did I? I said I would be a stay-at-home  
dad--I said that a million times! You wouldn't have to change anything!"

"Bullshit! Are you going to carry the baby, too? No. No, I don't see  
that happening, do you? And how are we going to raise a child on a  
battleship, Alvaro? Do you honestly think I would drag a child into this  
kind of life?"

"Then take another posting somewhere!"

"No! I worked hard to be where I am!"

"Fine. Your career is so important that I come second, our marriage  
comes second, our child--well, a baby doesn't even rate third place in  
your plans--and yet you would risk everything you say is so important to  
you by ordering your men to torture some guy and I can't know why?  
That's bullshit!"

"Don't you think I would tell you if I could?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I really don't. Most of the time I fell like if  
you could get away with it you wouldn't talk to me at all. I feel like a  
goddamn pet most of the time! I'm there to greet you when your shift  
ends, rub your feet, bring you your lunch, warm your bed, but God forbid  
you should ever have a real conversation with me about things that  
matter! Things that affect our life together! I have put enough time  
into our relationship that I should have earned at least some of your  
loyalty and trust by now! Goddamn it! I'm not asking you to divulge any  
Federation secrets, I just want to know what the hell is going on!"

"Gilhouley--"

"No more!" Alvaro said, throwing up his hands in anger. "I'm sick of  
sharing my marriage with your precious Admiral Gilhouley! For once, just  
talk to me without bringing him up!"

Fig got up from her chair. "I'm leaving. I don't have the time or the  
patience to put up with your jealousy, Alvaro! What? Do you think that  
I'm fucking him or something? Is that what you're saying, because it  
sure as hell feels like it!"

"No! That's not what this is about!" Alvaro got to his feet as well. "I  
trust you and I know that you have no interest in Gilhouley in that way,  
but this is not about me being jealous because I think you want to sleep  
with him. Hell, if all this was about was some unresolved sexual tension  
between the two of you, I would be able to handle that! That I could  
compete with! But this isn't about sex--you trust him more than you do  
me and it's not because of your job or the fact that he's your boss!  
It's always been this way; you've always picked him, picked the job,  
over me. I'm sick and tired of coming in second all the time. It's my  
turn, Gabriella! I just want you to choose me, see things from my  
perspective just once. I know you have a job to do, but this isn't just  
about following orders--something more than that is going on! I want to  
know what it is before it hurts you. Can't you see that?" His voice  
lowered as he began to plead with her. "I love you. You are my universe.  
Your job is to protect the Alpha Quadrant, but my job is to protect  
*you*--to protect *us*. Something is going on, I can sense it, I know  
it; stop trying to shut me out and talk to me."

"Damn it, Alvaro..." Fig sighed and sat back down slowly. "It's not that--"

//Captain?//

Fig's mouth tightened in annoyance and she slapped her comm badge. "Yes?"

//You have an emergency comm from Bajor. Should I put it through?//

"Go ahead." She looked at her husband apologetically. "I have to get this."

"I know." Alvaro said, anger adding a bite to his words as he picked up  
his plate and headed for the door.

"Alvaro--"

"When you decide to let me in, Gabriella, you know where I'll be."

"That's not--" Alvaro walked out the door and she stared after him.  
"--fair. Fuck." Fig tossed her napkin beside her plate and walked over  
to the comm system on the wall, switching it on with a punch of a finger.

//Captain Figueiredo.//

"Brother Elim, right?" she said in surprise. "How can I help you?"

//I have an associate coming to transport down a package from her ship.  
I need you to provide her with clearance to do so.//

"I'm sorry, but right now we need to enforce a strict quarantine. No  
ships are being allowed to get within transporter range of Bajor. If you  
need supplies, I'm sure we can--"

//It isn't supplies, captain. It's something much more important than  
blankets and emergency rations, I assure you.//

 

"More medical personnel? I know you need help, but we absolutely cannot  
risk anyone else catching this infection."

//It isn't medical personnel.//

"I'm sorry, but I really don't have time to play twenty questions right  
now. The answer is no, Brother Elim. Now if you need anything else  
contact--"

//Don't end this comm, Captain. Not unless you want to allow Sloan to  
slip through both our hands.//

"Excuse me?" Fig's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

//My associate managed to capture Agent Sloan and transport him here to  
Bajoran space with the cooperation of the Idanian authorities. I am  
telling you this because I wish to interrogate him here on Bajoran soil  
and I need you to authorize the ship carrying him to enter Bajoran space  
and transport him to the planet's surface.//

"How did you--?" she began.

//How I found out about Sloan is unimportant,// the Cardassian said in a  
cool tone. //The information he carries is of value to us both. Allow  
him to be transported down so I can retrieve the information we need to  
stop this virus before the situation escalates.//

Fig's jaw clenched as she reassessed the situation. "I had heard you  
were quite good at what you did when you worked for Captain Sisko, but  
given the circumstances I believe it would be best if Starfleet took  
over this investigation from here on out."

//Captain, your government would rather see us all dead and buried than  
allow the public to know that agents working for the Federation unleashed this  
virus upon Bajor deliberately,// Garak said in a matter-of-fact tone.  
//You and I both know that we are under a timetable and as effective as  
your officers were in interrogating Commander MacKelroy, I seriously  
doubt they have the necessary experience it would require to break a  
seasoned agent like Sloan.//

"How did you know about that?" she demanded.

//I have my ways,//he said evenly. //We had our first fatality from this  
disease last night. More will die unless we stop it. If you do not help  
us do this, Captain, then you are no better than the enemy who placed us  
in this position to begin with. As such, we will then have no choice but  
take action against you and your crew so that we may defend ourselves  
and try to save our people.//

"I seriously doubt that you are in any position to--"

//Captain, as of now no one within the Bajoran government or within the  
general population is aware that the Federation is planning on  
destroying Bajor. Unless you authorize this transport, my associates are  
prepared to have your press issue the news of what Section 31 is  
attempting to do and why the United Federation of Planets is planning a  
closed door session of the General Assembly following the end of the  
summit talks. Additionally, there are allies of the Bajoran people  
willing to protect its space from any attacks launched by your vessel.  
They are poised to intercept Captain Abramson's ship even now and, if  
necessary, Major Kira will order the station to lock on to your position  
and is fully prepared to take you down unless you comply.//

Figueiredo examined the Cardassian's expression carefully. "You're  
bluffing."

//Perhaps,// he said. //But if I am not, Bajorans will not be the only  
ones to die today. Are you willing to risk that? And even if you are  
right and I am bluffing, how do you think it will reflect on your  
government when the press reports that a Federation vessel locked its  
weapons on a Bajoran orphanage filled with sick and dying children while  
trying to cover up a conspiracy? That conspiracy being, of course, that  
agents from your own government attempted to commit genocide on a people  
who consider themselves to be your allies just so you could gain  
absolute control over the wormhole.// He smiled coldly.

She stood there silently and allowed his words to penetrate for a  
moment. "I'm listening."

//As I see it, we're on the same side, Captain,// Garak said. //You  
don't want to be the one to hand Bajor a death sentence any more than we  
want to die. Let me interrogate Sloan so we can end this before that  
order comes down taking the decision out of both of our hands.//

"And if you can't get the cure in time?" she asked.

//Then we will accept our fate.// he said simply.

"Why don't I believe you?"

//Like I said, as of now only a chosen few are aware of what is  
happening. I know just as you do that this virus must not be allowed to  
mutate again. If I cannot break Sloan then our fate was sealed long ago.  
But, if I can get something from him, perhaps we can find another way to  
deal with this. Continue with the quarantine, just approve the transport  
and let me try.//

"For a monk, you certainly have a knack for negotiation," she said at  
last. "I'll authorize the transport, but I will be monitoring it from  
here. If more than one person is beamed down or if our sensors detect  
that you are attempting to evacuate the monastery, I will fire upon your  
position."

//Understood,// Garak said before signing off.

She stared at the darkened screen. "This is already turning out to be a  
really shitty day," she muttered.

 

******

Julian was in the medical tent with Girani preparing Ziyal for the  
procedure when Garak walked through the door, his expression grim.

"Where's Jake?" he asked.

"Reven is looking after him. May we speak in private?"

"Certainly. Keep her stabilized as best you can until Okuna and Perreira  
are finished making the modifications to the artificial womb," he said  
to Girani.

"I can give them a couple of hours--maybe--but if the fetus begins to  
distress again..." she said.

"Just try. I'll see what I can do to help hurry up Okuna after I get  
through with Garak."

He followed Garak out of the medical tent and to his cabin, not speaking  
until he shut the door behind him. "Did you talk to Figueiredo?"

"She approved the transport, but it took some convincing along with a  
bit of creative dissemblance on my part."

"In other words you lied to her. What did you say?"

"I told her that Major Kira would blast her ship out of orbit if she  
didn't agree."

Julian's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's...you're damn lucky she  
bought that."

"It was a calculated risk. We have nothing to lose by doing so and she  
knew it. The odds were on my side that she'd believe me."

"How do you figure?"

"Was it not the Terran author Scott Love who once said, 'Only the most  
foolish of mice would think to hide in a cat's ear, but only the wisest  
of cats would think to look there'?"

"You remembered that?" Julian asked in surprise.

"I remember all of our conversations, doctor," Garak admitted. "And,  
despite the fact that almost all of your novels and music are simply  
drowning in over-the-top sentimental nonsense, a few of your literary  
recommendations were...adequate."

"Despite that underwhelming praise, I'm touched." Julian grinned. "What  
are you planning to do if Figueiredo confronts Kira?"

"Why would she? Given recent events I seriously doubt she'd want to  
start an open dialogue with the Major. In any case, the actual lie  
itself isn't important. She just needed an excuse to relent and I gave  
it to her. Captain Figueiredo isn't going to--how do you call it?--'look  
a gift horse in the mouth'. My lie gave her the excuse she was looking  
for to break from her orders and help us. Did you prepare the  
medications I asked for?"

"I have them. Garak, I want to be in on the interrogation," Julian said  
as he looked him in the eye steadfastly.

"I don't think that's a good idea--"

"If he has medical information to give us, I need to be there. You won't  
be able to tell if he's lying or not," he argued. "Plus, I can  
administer the meds you need to make him talk. You might accidentally  
give him an overdose--"

"This isn't my first interrogation, doctor," Garak said in annoyance.

"And I'm not as naïve as you apparently think I am. I know you think I  
can't handle seeing you interrogate Sloan, but you're wrong," Julian  
shot back. "I do know all too well what you may have to do to get what  
we need from him."

"This isn't one of your holofantasies--"

"Keeping me out would be counterproductive to getting what we need out  
of him!" Julian insisted. "Yes, I am a doctor and I believe in the  
preservation of life, but I'm also a soldier. No matter how far you have  
to take the interrogation, I want to be there. I need to be able to ask  
the right questions and interpret the information he gives us."

"You may think you know what may happen, but do you really?" Garak  
asked, his voice growing cold as he advanced on him, his expression  
almost frightening in its intensity. "Real blood, doctor--real pain! And  
if it comes to it, real death. There is no going back once you enter  
that room. If Sloan even thinks there is a chance that we're weakening  
he'll never give us the information we need."

"I'm not the eager young doctor you met five years ago," Julian stated  
in a hard tone. "I have killed, Garak. I have taken lives in defense of  
the station and my fellow officers. My hands are not lily white or  
untouched by violence! Do your worst, Garak; I won't flinch or utter a  
word in his defense. I promise you I will not be feeling any sympathy  
for the man who murdered my patient and who tried to murder an entire  
planet! If it saves lives, I would gladly take your place as his  
torturer, and God help him if I do because I doubt I could show the  
restraint you undoubtedly will." Julian looked him in the eye, silently  
challenging him to contradict his statement.

Garak met his gaze before nodding his head slowly. "No, I suppose you  
aren't the young man I met all those years ago," he agreed, his tone  
somewhat subdued.

"I need to be there," Julian repeated.

"The ship will be here in an hour," he said. "By then, the medication he  
was administered should be wearing off. I want to put him in the wine  
cellar until after Ziyal's child is transferred to the artificial womb.  
Jake may need me to stand with him after her life support is turned off."

"Do you want me to sedate Sloan?"

"No. I want him awake when we interrogate him."

"We?" Julian asked. "You're letting me assist you?"

"You had a point when you said you needed to be there if we are to  
ascertain that he's telling the truth," Garak said, his attitude one of  
resigned acceptance. "My medical knowledge is extremely limited compared  
to your own."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, doctor," Garak said. "I'm not doing you any favors by  
allowing this. Sloan is a trained operative. He knows how to  
compartmentalize his pain and how to resist drugs. This will not be  
pleasant and after today you may never be able to see yourself--either  
of us--in the same way ever again."

"No matter what happens in there, you aren't going to scare me away," he  
said. "Not from the interrogation or from you. I still intend to pursue  
what we have after this is all over. I know who you are now, Garak. No  
matter what else happens, no matter what I see, that won't change."

"We'll see."

*****

It was barely an hour later when Julian found himself standing with  
Garak in the bottling area of the monastery's wine house. A shimmering  
light appeared in the center of the room and solidified until it took  
the form of a restrained and gagged human, his still hazy eyes taking in  
his surroundings as he struggled hopelessly against his bonds.

"Ah, Mr. Sloan," Garak said with a triumphant grin, "allow me to be the  
first to welcome you to Bajor."

******

"Are you quite certain that the paralytic you gave him will last until  
after the procedure?"

Julian nodded. "Until I give him the antidote, he won't be able to move  
a muscle and the apparatus I placed on him will alert my comm badge if  
his respiration changes or if he tries to remove any of his leads." He  
looked to Garak as they walked side by side. "I still think you could  
have gotten away with simply using restraints."

Garak smiled slightly. "Many a time I myself have escaped from a sticky  
situation because my hosts felt that merely limiting my movements would  
keep me where they wanted me. I have no intention of letting Sloan go or  
even giving him the idea that escape is possible. Besides, being kept in  
a paralyzed state for a few hours should help wear him down  
psychologically."

He considered that for a moment as he and Garak made their way toward  
the medical tent. "That's true, I suppose. The freedom the Hadar gave us  
in the prison camp helped us keep our heads despite the fact that we  
were trapped in an atmosphere dome. Had we been in chains for months on  
end I doubt we would have been as hopeful about our chances of escape."

"Yes, but you and the other prisoners had no information the Dominion  
wanted so all they felt they needed to do was keep you in a secure area.  
The goals in keeping one merely contained and the process of extracting  
information from someone are quite different. Depending on your time  
constraints and the type of training your prisoner has had, there are  
different types of interrogation techniques one may apply." Garak  
continued, his pace slowing as he launched fully into lecture mode. "The  
keys to a successful interrogation are preparation, information, and  
extraction. Maehark sent me a dossier on what the OO had on Section 31  
and the operative they believe is Sloan. I'm hoping to leverage that  
information so I may extract as much accurate information from him in as  
short a time as possible. It helps if your prisoner believes you know  
more than you really do so he has no idea if he's giving you new  
information or not as the interrogation progresses. Knowing your target,  
knowing his personal life, preferences, even the most seemingly  
innocuous details can make you seem more in control than you really are.  
Knowledge is power, especially during an interrogation. However, since  
Sloan knows we know very little about this disease, that maxim becomes a  
two way sword which he may wield as easily as we can. Unless we make a  
strong showing at the start of the interrogation, we find ourselves at a  
disadvantage from the very beginning. Another problem is that he's  
undoubtedly been trained to resist most forms of interrogation. Pain  
will not work on a man like him, nor can we appeal to his sense of  
morality because he believes the deaths of his victims serve a greater  
good. Pain, doctor, in the mind of a prisoner equals death. Death  
doesn't really frighten him because he believes that if we take his life  
he will merely become a martyr to his cause. Therefore, torture is off  
the table. It never is a very effective tool anyway. A man in pain will  
either tell you what you want to hear or, as in this case I suspect, use  
the pain to strengthen his resolve."

"What do we do then?"

Garak looked at him from the corner of his eye. "We get inside his head.  
We find his weaknesses and we exploit them. Every man has a breaking  
point, doctor. The information we need is there, we just have to try to  
get to it before the clock runs out."

"Too bad we don't have a way of building an artificial psychic rapport  
with him, like an electronically induced Vulcan mind meld," Julian said,  
half to himself.

"You rely too much on the trappings of the modern world, doctor," Garak  
said easily. "Such things may be convenient, but they aren't necessary.  
What it all boils down to is that our job is to get information from him  
just as his job is to keep us in the dark. It is a battle of wills: one  
mind against the other. If his mind is stronger than ours, no mind meld  
or machine will ever break him."

"How do you know you can then?" he asked.

"I don't. I won't know until I try, but I do have some advantages over  
our Mr. Sloan already."

"Which are?"

"First, Mr. Sloan is a true believer, and while that gives him a lot of  
mental fortitude, it is also his greatest weakness. True believers can  
be disillusioned very easily under the right circumstances. Also, he  
already thinks he's won whereas we are very obviously in a struggle to  
save our own lives."

"And how does that help us?" Julian asked in confusion.

"Because Mr. Sloan knows that a desperate man is a very dangerous man,"  
Garak replied. "The three men one never wishes to meet on either side of  
an interrogation are a dying man, an old man, or an insane man, because  
none of them have anything left to fear or to lose. None of them fear  
death or the pain that precedes it and pain, quite often, is the  
lubricant of truth."

Julian frowned. "I thought you said physical torture wouldn't work on a  
man like Sloan."

"The type of pain an interrogator applies is only occasionally physical.  
Sometimes it is physical, yes, but more often it is psychological or  
even spiritual pain that works best. One can compartmentalize any pain  
of the body, but pain of the mind is always there ready to be exploited."

"Pardon me for saying so, but that seems more than a little diabolical,"  
Julian said wryly. "I've suddenly got a picture in my mind of you  
twisting the ends of your bushy black mustache and laughing manically."

"I'm not wearing a mustache."

"It's--never mind," Julian said.

"I could grow one I suppose," Garak mused. "I knew a Gul who favored a  
full beard, but facial hair has long been out of fashion on Cardassia.  
If I may say so, doctor, your recent efforts in that area are quite  
becoming."

"You think so?" Julian asked, scratching his cheek. "It's not a fashion  
statement, just laziness, but if you think it looks good..."

"Makes you look more..." Garak frowned.

"What? Scruffy? Unkempt?"

"Older."

"And that's a good thing?" Julian chuckled.

"I don't know the correct phrasing. It makes you look like you've grown  
into your face, if that makes any sense," Garak said thoughtfully. "It  
probably makes no sense at all, though. I apologize for rambling  
off-subject like this, doctor. In any case, your beard is quite  
fetching. It suits your face. You should think about keeping it."

"Maybe I will," Julian replied with a small smile. "It was beginning to  
itch and I was going to go over it with a sonic shaver first chance I  
got, but if you like it then I'll leave it."

"Don't do anything that makes you uncomfortable just to please me,  
doctor," Garak said in mild surprise.

Julian reached for Garak's hand, threading their fingers together. He  
turned to him fully, meeting his curious gaze with a gentle smile. "If  
it makes you happy I can put up with a little itching for a while.  
Besides, the way I see it, it benefits me to keep it."

"It...benefits you?" Garak asked. "How?"

Julian stepped closer to him, pressing his scratchy whiskers against the  
other man's cheek and waiting for him to shiver slightly before  
whispering in his ear, "Because, when I rub my beard against your skin I  
get to watch your reaction and it makes me wonder where all your other  
sensitive places are, my dear, sweet Mr. Garak."

"Ah," he said in response, obviously more than a little caught off guard.

Julian stepped back and smiled, "But back to business," he said,  
allowing their hands to part. "You seem very confident that you can  
uncover Sloan's secret fears and emotional pitfalls."

Garak cleared his throat and avoided Julian's gaze, focusing instead on  
continuing their previous discussion. "It was my job to uncover such  
things, doctor. I will admit I do have a few tricks up my sleeve when it  
comes to our guest thanks to the generosity of Maehark and his  
willingness to put his contacts within the Intelligence community at our  
disposal, but even if I had to go into that room with no information  
whatsoever, it is a universal fact that all men suffer with their own  
inner demons. Every man, regardless of his life experience, suffers from  
regret, loss, and the fear of failure. These are our common denominators  
that can either bring us together or tear us apart; they're also the  
keys to unlocking Mr. Sloan's secrets."

"Is that what you were doing all morning? Talking to Maehark?" Julian  
asked, a small spark of jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach as he  
pictured the handsome Cardassian agent in his mind.

"Partly," Garak replied. "He and I discussed strategy for a while and  
then he generously volunteered his own time and resources to our  
efforts." He smiled slightly. "Maehark always was very good at that sort  
of thing--research, organization, and such. There is a very good reason  
why Tain made him his partner in his private firm. One hour after  
getting off the comm with us he had freelance operatives on the move and  
a dossier prepared without me even having to ask. I never realized how  
much I missed working with my old associates until now. It's unpleasant  
business, yes, but when you have the proper resources and tools at your  
disposal, it certainly makes things go much smoother."

"Are you thinking about taking him up on his offer to take Tain's place  
in the firm?" Julian asked, trying to make the question seem casual.

Unfortunately Garak didn't seem at all fooled. The Cardassian looked at  
him, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And if I did would you miss me?"

Julian scowled at him. "Oh, shut up."

The two men stopped when they got to the door of the medical tent. Garak  
turned to Julian, his expression shifting from mild amusement to one of  
obvious concern. "What are the chances of the fetus surviving the transfer?"

"Not great," Julian said in a low voice, mindful of the fact that others  
might overhear even outside of the tent's hard composite walls. "In a  
normal pregnancy, maybe thirty percent. Ziyal is just into her second  
trimester; if we had the option of waiting a few more weeks I would take  
it but we don't. The virus in the baby's system also has me worried.  
Okuna rigged it so the machine will mimic all of Ziyal's vital signs  
right down to her heartbeat and voice patterns by using previous scans  
and her own personal logs we downloaded from the station's computer.  
We're hoping the virus isn't advanced enough to know the difference but  
it is a machine, organic or not. We have no idea how thorough its  
creator was in programming it."

"Just do your best," Garak said with a grim set of his jaw.

"One hurdle at a time," Julian agreed. "We'll try to save Ziyal's child  
and then you can try to save Bajor."

"But no pressure?" Garak asked wearily.

"If it were easy, do you honestly think we'd be the ones stuck doing  
it?" Julian asked.

Garak pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'm loath to admit it, but you may  
have a point there."

"Can I...ask you something?"

Garak's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "What?"

"Nothing bad," Julian assured him. "Just--with all that's happened I've  
been thinking that if we get out of this in one piece that we should  
really think about getting away for a while. Take a real vacation and  
try to get to know one another again--really get to know one another."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean we should get to know each other. You know, without the walls  
and all the preconceived notions we had about who the other person was.  
Start fresh." Julian gave him a curious look. "Why? What did you think I  
meant?"

"Well, when you said 'really get to know one another' I thought you  
meant you wanted us to..." He cleared his throat.

"Oh!" Julian smiled broadly. "*REALLY* get to--"

"Yes, quite." Garak actually looked almost flustered as he said it.

"It's not outside the realm of possibility," Julian said broadly.  
"Anything's possible."

Garak's eyes twinkled with amusement and he offered him a slightly  
wistful smile. "And where would we go?"

"Well, if you *really* want to get to know each other, Risa is always  
nice this time of year. Perfect for getting off on the right foot and  
starting a new life...at least that's what Leeta told me the last time I  
was there. I'm hoping you don't do what she did and leave me for Rom  
afterwards."

"That is something I can assure you would never happen," Garak said.  
"However, as nice as Risa may be, I doubt they offer family-friendly  
entertainment."

"Family--I thought we had an understanding that something more along the  
lines of 'adult' entertainment would be on the itinerary."

"Kela and Lewin."

The mention of the children's names wiped the smile off Julian's face  
instantly. "Damn. I forgot."

"That's all right, really. After all you haven't had a whole lot of time  
to get to know them yet. It's only natural that you'd forget, especially  
since you were thinking primarily about using this trip to reestablish  
our friendship, not to bond with the children."

"No," Julian said, feeling waves of guilt flow through him. "It's not  
all right and I should feel like a total heel for just cutting them out  
like that. You and the children are a package deal, Garak, and I am  
fully cognizant of that fact, I assure you. I really want you to know  
that it will never happen again."

"Doctor," Garak said firmly. "As you said, we need time to get to know  
one another. Five years or no, we are still virtual strangers to one  
another and a few small gestures of affection does not a lifetime  
commitment make. We need to take our time before we get too deep. I made  
that mistake once before and it nearly cost me everything. This time, if  
you are serious about pursuing this, we need to take things one step at  
a time, especially since Lewin and Kela need some stability in their  
lives after everything that has happened."

Julian nodded. Garak was right. As much as he would like to just fall  
into bed and tumble around with him until the world made sense again,  
they needed to keep a cool head when it came to establishing any kind of  
relationship with each other. He was out of Starfleet now and had no  
intention of returning so they didn't need to worry about that, but  
there were a thousand other immediate concerns they needed to deal with  
first--if they lived.

Would he return to Deep Space Nine as a civilian? Part time or full  
time? Would he be able to live with Garak at the monastery without  
taking holy orders? Would Garak agree to relocate with the children if  
he couldn't? And then there were the children themselves-"How is Kela  
handling all of this? I haven't seen her since all this started."

"Lum is keeping her and the other children who aren't showing any  
serious symptoms away from the medical tent. I'm going to try and see  
her later tonight to tuck her in."

"If I can get away I'd like to join you," Julian said, still feeling a  
bit guilty. Courting Garak meant he had to get used to the idea of being  
a co-parent. He had a lot to learn and he could use as much practice as  
he could get.

"She would probably enjoy that," Garak agreed, then looked at the door  
to the tent for a long moment.

"We have to go in," Julian said.

"I know." Garak turned to him. "There's something I should tell you."

"Don't," Julian said. "Whatever it is, good or bad, it can wait."

"We may not be able to stop this," Garak said quietly.

"I said *don't* tell me," Julian said rubbing his neck  
wearily. "Well, if we can't stop it then we can't and that's  
that, right?"

Garak threw him a look that said he wasn't fooled in the  
least by his seemingly dismissive attitude toward the  
possibility of their imminent demise.

"Okay, so I'm lying. You do it constantly and I don't call  
you on it--much." He sighed. "If we can't stop this I don't  
know what we'll do. We'll probably fight this all the way to  
the end, but I know what I want to do and that's what's  
making this all so hard right now."

"And that is?"

Julian led Garak away from the tent and began to speak in  
low tones. "I figure that right before they initiate the  
attack they'll beam us up to get us out of harm's way.  
Killing Bajorans with the disease is one thing but  
uninfected civilians and officers is something else  
entirely. I could rig something up to block the transporter  
from locking on to me, then we could get your friend with  
the ship to transport you, me, the kids, and as many others  
as we can manage up to her ship and go straight to warp and  
as far away from Bajor as possible."

Garak went quiet for a moment and Julian half expected him  
to give another speech about how they couldn't risk  
infecting anyone else. Instead he was shocked to his core  
when he responded with a simple, "Yes. I agree."

"Seriously?"

Garak nodded. "But--only if you think there is still a  
possibility that we can find a cure. There are a lot of  
unpopulated M class planets out there where we can find  
temporary shelter. If the interrogation doesn't give us what  
we need to end this I'll talk to Momo about it and contact  
Maehark as soon as we're out of sensor range. I have money  
and resources. We can get what we need to set up our own lab  
somewhere and try to beat this. Even if all we can do is  
stop it from progressing any further, I'm guessing that a  
cure or vaccine will mysteriously turn up shortly after  
Section 31's objectives are met."

"How big is the ship? How many of us can she evacuate?"

"I don't know. Not more than six probably."

"So just us and two others? That's all?" Julian asked,  
feeling the bile rise in his throat at the thought of  
abandoning so many people to such a grim fate.

"Can the artificial womb be transported?" Garak asked.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Julian said honestly.

"In an emergency?"

"In an emergency...I guess we'd have to. Garak," Julian  
said, shifting his stance, "you know I cared for Ziyal and I  
want to save this baby but if I had the choice between  
saving a living child and a fetus with less than a 30%  
chance of survival even under the best of circumstances, I  
wouldn't even hesitate to leave the womb behind."

"Normally I'd agree, but this fetus has the virus which may  
infect humans. Finding a cure for that strain is as  
important as the other two strains of this disease. The  
fetus is unique. I'd hate to lose that opportunity just in  
case this virus does get out."

"Let's see what happens," Julian said at last. "If it looks  
like the fetus won't make it, we'll leave it behind. Jake  
will be transported up by the other ships so I'm not worried  
about him. We can always figure out a way to get to him  
later if we do take the fetus. I say our priorities should  
begin with Lewin and Kela. Maybe instead of us being  
transported we should get your associate to lock on to them  
and four others; three more children and an adult. I'm  
thinking Girani since she has the most medical training."

"I almost expected you to say Krath or Reven," Garak said in  
mild surprise.

"Reven isn't going to want to leave Danna and Krath would be  
on the list if he weren't so sick and we had an extra seat,  
but we don't. Girani is the only logical choice. If we think  
this is going to happen we'll let her know at the last  
minute so there won't be enough time for her to object.  
She'll give her place away to a child, I know her. We need  
another doctor there though just in case we have a hard time  
getting away. The only hard part left is deciding which two  
children out of the 48 left to take."

"I know if you had the option we'd take them all, as would  
I, but if we have to it needs to be one mixed-race child and  
one pure Bajoran who are still healthy. We have to think  
ahead in case finding the cure takes longer than we hope it  
will. I say we take the youngest two. When we go to tuck in  
Kela tonight you can ask Lum how all the children are doing  
and assess our options."

"Christ," Julian said, rubbing his hand over his mouth.

"One step at a time," Garak reminded him. "This is our exit  
strategy if and when all else fails. If we do our jobs and  
everything goes as planned we will never have to make that  
decision."

"One step at a time," Julian agreed softly, before heading  
into the tent with Garak following closely behind.


	12. Rumplestiltskin

CHAPTER TWELVE: Rumplestiltskin

 

The room was very quiet except for the slow hum of the machines  
surrounding them. It was crowded as well. Julian was at the medical  
transporter with Girani monitoring Ziyal and the fetus while Okuna ran  
through the checklist for the modified artificial womb one last time.  
Perreira was the only member of the medical team left on the floor to do  
rounds, but Julian had ordered all of the patients to be kept under  
light sedation until they came up with something better so hopefully  
there would be no emergencies to distract them from the task at hand.

Jake held his wife's hand, his complexion gray and sickly as he awaited  
the news of their son's fate. Garak stood at his side, his posture tense  
as kept vigil over the young man. Reven had volunteered to keep watch  
over their patients with Perreira but he was undoubtedly close at hand  
should Jake need him.

He hated this: this inevitable death. With one press of a button one  
life would end and another would hang in the balance. Jake's anguished  
cry resounded in his ears as he remembered what he had asked Garak. Why?  
Why when medical science has come so far was death still possible? The  
doctor in him knew the scientific reason for it, but the child who  
watched a playmate die in a cave all those years ago railed against it  
as well. Death seemed so abstract at times. With all they had  
accomplished, all the miracles this age offered, people still died  
before their time. It wasn't right, he thought. This whole situation  
angered him. It made him burn with a deep hatred for the men who had  
perverted his craft to wreak such havoc upon these people--upon them all.

As he placed his finger on the controller and waited for Okuna to give  
them the green light, he felt his blood begin to rise. He wanted Sloan  
to suffer for this. God help him, he wanted Garak to do his worst upon  
that man for what was about to happen. He looked at Jake and watched as  
the younger man tightened his grip on his bride's hand. Jake's thoughts  
were written all over his face. He was hoping that when that machine was  
turned off a miracle would take place and his wife would return to him.  
He was bargaining, pleading, praying to whatever deities made themselves  
available and it showed. Garak laid his hand on the young man's  
shoulder, causing Jake to stiffen his posture slightly. Garak also  
looked grim as he gazed down on the young woman who had come to mean so  
much to him since she had arrived on the station.

Julian averted his eyes, unable to face their pain right now. He knew  
he'd have to deal with the fall out later, but right now he needed to  
concentrate on the task at hand. He'd prepared a hypo for Jake just in  
case the young man had to be sedated. After seeing the look on his face  
he had a feeling that in a few moments it would come to good use.

"We're ready," Okuna said softly.

"Beginning transport," Julian said as he activated the machine. "Energize."

There was a shimmer of light above Ziyal's stomach and then the small  
being, barely the size of a small peach, appeared in the tank's monitor.  
The tank itself was completely enclosed in a solid metal casing but the  
fetus could be monitored on a small screen attached to the front of the  
cold-looking apparatus. Okuna and Girani watched the readings as they  
began to scroll across the bottom of the baby's image. "We're okay,"  
Okuna said in relief. "No abnormal readings so far and no change in the  
virions. The baby's good."

Julian nodded then turned to Jake. "It's time."

"I--" He looked up, startled. "Already?" He glanced over toward the tank  
and Julian realized that he hadn't even noticed the transfer. He'd been  
too wrapped up in Ziyal.

"The baby is doing well, Jake. Now we have to let Ziyal go."

"No," Jake said, licking his lips. "I was thinking, maybe you could try  
again? Maybe without the strain of the pregnancy Ziyal--?"

"She's gone, Jake. She has been since late last night," Julian said  
carefully. "You need to finish letting her go."

Jake turned to Garak as if to ask for some kind of help or hope. The  
Cardassian stepped forward while keeping a firm but gentle hand on  
Jake's shoulder and looked at Julian. "Do it."

Julian felt himself hesitate for just a second before touching the pad  
of his finger to the light on the biobed's main console.

When death comes, Julian thought, it is so anticlimactic.

Ziyal's chest stilled: there was no sound, no movement. Jake watched her  
intently, waiting for the next breath but it never came. His body began  
to tremble and he placed his hand on her heart. Julian didn't have to  
look at the monitor to know what Jake was feeling. One beat, a pause,  
another beat, then nothing.

"She's gone," Garak whispered in his ear, tugging him away.

"No, she's warm. She's still warm! Turn the machine back on!" Jake cried  
out, pulling away from Garak. "I said turn the goddamn machine back on!"

"Jake--" Garak said.

"Get away from us!" Jake said, pulling Ziyal up from the bed and into  
his arms. He began to angry tears that disintegrated into wails of  
anguish. "Noooooo!"

Julian picked up the hypo and stepped over to Jake, intending to sedate  
him, but Garak headed him off with a brief shake of his head. "If you  
could excuse us and send in Brother Reven? Thank you."

Julian nodded and motioned his team to join him. Okuna gave the  
artificial womb one last check and walked out with them, leaving the  
grieving young man and Garak alone.

As soon as they left the back room, Perreira looked up expectantly. He  
approached Okuna and began to speak to him in low tones. Reven, looking  
up and seeing Julian's grim expression, took a moment to squeeze his  
sleeping husband's hand and spare him one last tender look before  
getting up from his chair.

"He's still with Brother Elim?"

Julian nodded, handing the monk the hypo he'd taken with him. "Garak  
asked that you join them. I haven't sedated Jake, but if you think he  
needs it..."

Reven took the hypo with a nod then walked through the door.

Julian shook off the bleak despair that hung over him and tried to busy  
himself with monitoring the patients instead, but he couldn't help but  
look over at the closed door of the scanning room every few minutes. All  
of them did.

Julian was tired; he hadn't slept in so long he'd almost forgotten what  
a pillow felt like. But the last thing he wanted to do was nap. When the  
patients had all been seen to, he sat next to Lewin's bed and began to  
read out loud to him in low tones from a PADD of children's stories. The  
boy couldn't hear him, he knew, but it gave him something to do.

After an hour or so, Okuna made his way over to Julian's side, his eyes  
locked on the still-closed door. "I know Jake needs some time to grieve,  
but someone really needs to get in there and make sure the womb is still  
functioning correctly. It's your call, though."

Julian put the PADD down on the floor beside the boy's cot. "Give it  
fifteen more minutes. We've got at least a dozen fail-safes on the  
system. If one of the alarms goes off, Brother Reven will let us know--"

The door opened and Reven and Jake stepped through with Garak close  
behind. Jake looked as though he were in a deep state of shock, his eyes  
blood-red and his complexion alarmingly grey. Reven half led, half  
carried him out of the side door of the tent toward the temple. Garak  
watched them until they left, then walked over toward where Julian was  
standing.

With a nod, Julian dismissed Okuna. "How is he?" he asked when Garak was  
within earshot.

The look on Garak's face said more than mere words ever could. The  
Cardassian took a moment to lay his hand on his foster son's forehead  
then looked to Julian. "Are you ready to begin the interrogation?"

Rage filled Julian's soul and he got up from his chair. "Absolutely."

 

******

When they entered the bottling room, Sloan was where they had left him,  
although now there was a soft sheen of sweat on the man's forehead  
despite the fact that the room was quite cool. His eyes, one of the few  
things not paralyzed by the drug he had been administered earlier,  
followed their progress as they entered.

Julian sized the other man up. Tall, blond, middle-aged; he could be  
anyone. He was nondescript, handsome without being striking. He might  
have passed this man a thousand times on the station and never noticed  
him. This was their spy. The man responsible, at least in part, for all  
of this.

The bastard who murdered Ziyal.

Garak gave him an almost imperceptible nod and Julian stepped toward  
Sloan, hypospray in hand. As he pressed it to the other man's neck he  
suddenly wished he had loaded it with something other than the  
anti-paralytic. He was almost surprised to realize just how much he  
wanted to see this man suffer. He knew that administering physical pain  
was not within Garak's plans for Sloan but, oh, how easy it would be to  
change those plans for him. Fuck civilized Federation philosophy, he  
thought as he stared into their captive's eyes. The wrong medication  
administered at the right time and at just the right dosage...

Julian heard the hypo hiss on the agent's neck as he administered the  
meds and stepped back, fighting the urge to do this man violence.

The effect of the drug was almost instantaneous. Sloan rolled his neck  
and sighed, closing his eyes in pleasure.

"Thank you, doctor. You have no idea how uncomfortable it was keeping my  
neck in such a rigid position for so long." He smiled crookedly.  
"Despite the circumstances, I'm glad to finally meet you face to face.  
You've been the subject of much speculation for some time now. It's good  
to meet the legend in the flesh, so to speak." When he spoke, it was  
toward Julian, not Garak. He was surprised by that.

"I'm afraid I'm not as enthusiastic over meeting you, Mr. Sloan," Julian  
said coldly. "One of my patients just died because of you."

"Ah, Ziyal, right?" he asked, his smile unwavering. "I'm honestly  
surprised she lasted this long."

Julian started toward him, intent on tearing him limb from limb but the  
look on Garak's face stopped him. Focus, he ordered himself. Don't give  
into your anger. Sloan is testing you.

Sloan's smile broadened, seemingly amused by the anger he saw reflected  
in Julian's face. "Did you know that I considered recruiting you at one  
point, doctor? I thought that since this was all based on your work  
anyway, you might as well be there to see it all come to fruition. Well,  
I suppose it all worked out for the best in any case. You're here, I'm  
here...tell me, aren't you at least a little bit proud of yourself? I  
mean think about it: your research and theories probably saved the  
entire Alpha Quadrant. That, in my opinion, makes you the real hero in  
this little story."

"Seeing my research being perverted by people like you disgusts me!"  
Julian spat out, unable to contain himself. "I was trying to save lives  
and you--you bastards abused that information and created a bioweapon!  
Am I proud? What do you think? You turned it onto an entire planet full  
of innocent people! The only thing I want right now besides the cure for  
this virus is to see you get exactly what you deserve."

"Be honest, doctor, if not with me then with yourself: the whole point  
of your research was to give us a tactical advantage against the  
Dominion. I say job well done. After all, mom always said you can't make  
the perfect omelet without cracking a few eggs, right?"

"You fucking psycho," Julian muttered under his breath.

"That's not nice," Sloan said, chiding him. "After all, you always  
wanted to be a spy, right? Fight the good fight and all that. Well,  
welcome to the game, Dr. Bashir. It's not as neat and tidy as the  
holoadventures make it seem, but if you keep a positive outlook and your  
eye on the prize, it can be a very rewarding career."

"Rewarding? There are people dying--!" Julian stopped himself, gritted  
his teeth, and fell back a step or two. Garak had warned him but he let  
Sloan get in his head anyway. The man was strapped to a chair and yet in  
only a few minutes he had Julian feeling like he was the one being cornered.

Sloan watched in amusement as Julian struggled to bring his temper under  
control then turned to the Cardassian. "You must be the good Brother  
Elim?" he said in greeting, still seemingly unconcerned by the fact that  
he was tied to a chair with heavy-duty restraints on his hands and feet.  
"I must say, I'm not quite as pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Given the circumstances I would expect not," Garak said amiably as he  
dragged a second chair from behind one of the workbenches and placed it  
across from his captive before sitting. "I, on the other hand, am always  
happy to meet someone who works in my former profession, especially when  
I'm not the one in restraints."

"I'll give credit where credit is due, you do run a classy  
interrogation," Sloan said as he glanced around the room, which was  
filled with racks of wine from floor to ceiling. "Nice atmosphere--throw  
in a cigar and a good book and I could really make myself at home."

"And I must commend you as well: none of the usual denials or ranting  
about how your civil rights are being violated. I find your upfront  
approach to the situation quite refreshing."

"I doubt it would do any good to even try, so why bother?" Sloan said in  
a maddeningly confident tone. "After all, we're both professionals. We  
know the rules of the game: I got caught and now you have me where you  
want me. The only question you have to ask yourself is what good will it  
do to keep me here. The answer, of course, is it won't do you any good  
at all. I'm afraid all that hard work you put into this operation has  
gone to waste. I know what you want and, sorry, but I don't have it."

"But you did unleash the virus on Bajor," Julian broke in, unable to  
remain silent.

"No," Sloan said, looking his way. "I did not."

"That's a lie!" Julian burst out.

"Doctor," Garak said without taking his eyes off of Sloan. "Our friend,  
Mr. Sloan, is not lying. He didn't set the virus loose on Bajor."

"But--!"

"He unleashed it on Deep Space Nine; on Ziyal specifically, correct?"

Sloan chuckled. "You're good. You could learn a lot from your friend,  
doctor. He knows how to keep a cool head."

Garak leaned back in his chair and eyed the man sitting across from him  
critically. "A 'cool head' as you call it is what has kept me alive all  
these years. My master drilled it into me since I was first apprenticed  
to him. 'Dispassionate focus' he'd say; 'the ability to assess a  
situation without losing yourself in it is the key to a good agent's  
success and ultimate survival.' It has done me more favors than I can  
count."

"Sounds more like something a Vulcan would say," Sloan commented, then  
appeared to mull it over for a moment. "That's right! I do seem to  
recall that you studied Vulcan philosophy for a while. Tell me, did your  
fascination for Vulcan disciplines begin before you assassinated the  
Romulan senator or after you started fucking that Vulcan a few years  
back? I believe his name was Sek." He turned to Julian. "Your boyfriend  
here has a thing for smart younger men. The younger the better, right,  
Garak?" He turned his attentions back to his interrogator. "Actually,  
Bashir's getting a little long in the tooth for you, don't you think?  
You like them fresh-picked, right off the tree. I don't blame you, I  
like a nice, firm piece of ass myself. Men like us need a break from all  
the cynicism and death. Youth can be so...invigorating." He turned to  
Julian with a playful wink.

It was all the doctor could do not to smash his fist in the bastard's  
smug face.

"It would seem that your files on me are fairly extensive," Garak  
replied, completely unruffled by Sloan's disgusting insinuations.

"They are," Sloan replied. "There is very little we don't know about  
you, Brother Elim. Although your refusal of a commission in lieu of a  
life of service with the 'Prophets' had us scratching our heads."

"If it doesn't work out, perhaps I can apply for work with Section 31  
instead. I understand there may be a few positions opening up soon."

"Haven't you heard? Section 31 doesn't exist." Sloan leaned forward as  
best he could and spoke in a confidential tone. "It's a myth. An urban  
legend." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "How these things get  
started I'll never know."

"What happened to all that refreshing honesty?" Julian muttered darkly,  
crossing his arms over his chest.

"I hope your aren't implying that I am being less than completely  
honest, doctor." Sloan said, mocking him. "I'm hurt."

"Oh, I know Section 31 exists," Garak smiled. "You see, for all their  
faults, the Obsidian Order was very good at putting together dossiers on  
operatives both inside and outside of their own organization. They knew  
of Section 31 long before your recent foray into biowarfare. In fact,  
they knew quite a bit about you in particular."

"I'm flattered," Sloan said, appearing almost bored by the Cardassian's  
revelation. "I had no idea I had such a broad fan base on Cardassia."

"You do have quite a few admirers. I must say though, I'm not  
responsible for the information. I was already out of the service when  
you began your career as a patriot for 31. An old associate of mine, one  
of the former directors of our counter intelligence division, assisted  
me in uncovering much of this information."

"Nice to have friends."

"Indeed," Garak agreed. "Although in our line of work friends are few  
and far between."

Julian bit the inside of his cheek and shifted his stance slightly in  
annoyance as he watched their byplay from the sidelines. Damn it man,  
are you going to kiss his arse all day or get on with it, he thought  
peevishly.

"Hmm, one of the drawbacks to being an assassin--oh wait, you were an  
interrogator. I apologize." His voice dripped with false sincerity. "So  
hard to keep up with all the euphemisms the Cardassian Empire has for  
'cold blooded murderer' when you've been kidnapped and strapped in a  
chair for hours on end."

"Not at all, Mr. Sloan. I understand perfectly, and speaking as one  
killer to another, I assure you I'm not the least bit offended by your  
refreshing and so very human brand of honesty."

"Thank you," Sloan said in exaggerated graciousness. "I believe  
murdering bastards like ourselves should be able to discuss our craft  
freely and without worrying about censoring ourselves."

"I agree completely, Mr. Sloan. Sloan." Garak mused. "Interesting name.  
Short, simple, yet it has a dangerous quality I find intriguing. I quite  
like the sound of it. My own aliases when I was in the field were never  
quite so lyrical or provocative as that. Sloan...Sloan... it just rolls  
off the tongue, don't you think? Tell me, since we are friends now and  
are, as you say, not limiting ourselves by adhering to the normal rules  
of interrogation, would you prefer to be called Sloan or by your real  
name instead?"

Sloan's smile faded slightly, "I'm sorry?"

"Samuels. David Samuels; that is your name, correct?" Garak made a show  
of pausing as though in deep thought. "No-no, I'm sure my friend said  
your name was David Samuels Jr., born near Pretoria, South Africa,  
Earth; most recently residing in Corpus Christi, Texas, Earth; married  
and divorced from Jacqueline Dominguez Samuels Asher, now remarried; and  
father to one son, David Allen Samuels III, now deceased."

"I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else."

"Really? I apologize then. You know how it is when you outsource this  
kind of thing. Communication breaks down, files get misplaced or you  
wind up with shoddy intelligence. It can be a real bother. However, this  
is good news for you. From what I read in this Samuels's dossier, he's  
lived a somewhat unfortunate existence. He had entertained hopes of  
being accepted into medical school, despite being a poor student, but  
had those hopes dashed when it was discovered that his high score on the  
entrance exam was obtained by hacking into the system." Garak leaned in  
confidentially. "Now, our friend Dr. Bashir probably won't understand  
what happened next in the saga of David Samuels because in his  
experience cheaters never prosper. You and I know differently. There is  
an enormous difference between a simple data thief and a truly talented  
electronic hacker that only persons such as ourselves can appreciate.  
Samuels had a raw and untapped talent and when he proved that by hacking  
into an encrypted system to change those grades the right people took  
notice. The only reason he was even caught was because the hack preceded  
a major system audit that just managed to catch the intrusion. A  
remarkable feat, especially for someone who was completely self-taught,  
wouldn't you agree?" Garak paused long enough for Sloan to answer his  
question with an almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes. "After that  
he disappeared for a bit. No friends, no family, he wasn't missed at all  
for the six years he spent training for his new career. He later  
resurfaced in Starfleet as a midlevel assay officer under a Vice Admiral  
Fujisaki, then merely a captain but still an up and coming operative in  
the Intelligence community. Fujisaki seemed to take a special interest  
in nurturing young Samuels's career. As Admiral Fujisaki's career  
flourished, so did his. In fact, you became his personal assistant--I'm  
sorry, my mistake, *Samuels* became his assistant, until of course, he  
left the service and joined a private research company specializing in  
communications technology."

"Tell me, does that kind of work pay well?" Sloan said, his ever-present  
smile still in place. "I've been considering taking early retirement."

"I'm afraid not, and the hours are apparently fairly long as well--at  
least that's what the former Mrs. Samuels alleged in her divorce  
proceedings. His marriage to Jacqueline started out fairly well, it  
would seem. She met him when he was a young officer in  
Starfleet--Fujisaki's wife introduced them in fact. When he left the  
service to work in communications she had hoped that would be the end of  
his sudden and unexpected trips out of town and that he'd begin to open  
up and let her past the--how did she phrase it? 'The wall of secrecy he  
built between the two of us.' Instead, this odd behavior increased  
exponentially. She became utterly convinced he was cheating on her and  
tried to salvage the marriage by having a child. She claimed she thought  
their son might become an anchor which would give him a reason to want  
to be home more, but not even he was enough. She claimed in her legal  
filings that her husband had been absent for much of their marriage and  
young David's childhood, and that even after their son committed suicide  
he failed to show up at his funeral. He didn't even bother calling until  
almost two weeks after the fact."

"Like I said, as utterly fascinating as this story is, your information  
is inaccurate. I'm not Samuels and I've never even met the man. None of  
this concerns me," Sloan said, his tone still relaxed and even despite  
the icy hatred that filled his eyes the moment Garak had said the word  
'suicide'.

"I apologize again for that misunderstanding. After all, as I said  
before, intelligence gathering can be tricky. In fact, as a side note  
before we change the subject, Samuels himself questioned the official  
ruling of suicide in his son's death. He claimed the coroner's report  
was botched and requested a formal inquiry into the matter. His reasons  
were that his son had sent word to him that he had evidence a high  
ranking member of the Security Council was a Founder. Before Samuels  
received the message, however, his son was dead. He claimed that his  
suicide was staged, and nearly erupted into violence and had to be  
forcibly removed from the proceedings when his estranged wife and his  
son's girlfriend both testified that young David had suffered from  
depression and paranoid delusions and had been under a doctor's care for  
quite some time. Who knows? Perhaps his intelligence was faulty, or  
perhaps his son was telling the truth and the Security Council had been  
infiltrated. It is possible, isn't it? Dr. Bashir is a living testimony  
to that. What do you think?"

"I really wouldn't know."

"Surely you have an opinion after all that?" Garak asked. "No? Oh well,  
it's a shame in any case. Young David was only twenty years old when he  
passed away--the same age as Ziyal, in fact. Not, of course, that one  
thing is related to the other. After all, Ziyal was merely collateral  
damage, a necessary victim to the pursuit of the survival of the Alpha  
Quadrant, whereas David was a victim of his own inability to live up to  
his father's expectations. His mother alleged both in the inquiry into  
his death and in her divorce proceedings that her husband put undue  
pressure on their son to join the military despite the fact that David  
wanted to be an artist and didn't have the aptitude or the emotional  
stability to cope with the pressures of Starfleet." Garak tilted his  
head slightly in a birdlike gesture of curiosity. "Ziyal was an artist,  
did you know that?"

"No, I didn't," Sloan answered curtly.

"Yes, a very talented artist in fact. She had recently been accepted to  
the Bajoran University of Arts and Sciences. I wish I had some of her  
sketches with me; you really should see them. Her art held an almost  
magical quality much like David Samuels the younger's work. His  
self-portrait was particularly haunting. I saw it when I went over the  
crime scene photos. It was white chalk on black canvas; very striking.  
He was found hanging in front of it--"

"Enough!" Sloan bit out. "Just shut up and begin the damned  
interrogation already!"

"But I thought we were having a nice, civilized conversation," Garak  
said in an almost hurt tone. "You almost sound angry, which doesn't make  
sense really. After all, it's not like this was your son, right?"

Sloan didn't answer.

"Ah, I understand. Even though I never knew this boy either, I must  
admit I find stories such as these quite disturbing. You know, in a  
profession such as ours, we see a lot of death--unnecessary, wasteful  
death." Garak's manner became solemn, the timbre of his voice growing  
more intimate as he spoke to his prisoner. "War, murder, political  
assassination--a specialty of mine once upon a time as you had mentioned  
earlier, but none of those really struck me as being as tragic as  
suicide. War is a fact of life, murder is tragic but only occasionally  
shocking, and political assassination, well," Garak chuckled, "that's a  
public service most of the time. Suicide though, that always saddens me.  
A young person with their life stretched out before them but overcome  
with despair and unyielding ennui decides to solve a temporary problem  
with such a horrific and utterly permanent solution--and the worst part  
of suicide isn't the suffering of the victims but of their families. The  
shock, the exposure one feels as their friends and family members begin  
to whisper and point fingers wondering where *they* went wrong, how  
*they* failed, what *they* should have done to help their  
child...terrible, just terrible. And truthfully, isn't it all just a  
matter of free will in the end? A person makes a decision and the  
consequences are death. That's not so unusual or shocking when you think  
about it. After all, shouldn't the victim absorb some of the blame? Take  
some personal responsibility for his inability to cope like the rest of  
us manage to? His father didn't tie the knot in the rope he hung himself  
with, did he? So he was unavailable emotionally. David was an adult, not  
a child. He made an adult decision and his decision had a tragic  
consequence. He was the only one at fault for that. Decisions. Choices."  
Garak paused. "I'm so sorry for rambling on. I tend to do that  
sometimes; old age is catching up to me. Do you have an opinion about  
this you'd like to share, Mr. Sloan?"

Sloan ignored him, his posture stiff and his face a thundercloud of anger.

"No?" He turned to Julian. "Have you an opinion, doctor?"

Julian cleared his throat, unsure of what Garak wanted him to say.  
"Well, as a doctor I, of course, disapprove of suicide, but many  
cultures do view it as an individual right. The Vulcans, the Klingons,  
several others including some Earth cultures believe that choosing the  
form of one's death is an honorable way to die. Still, if I had a  
patient experiencing severe depression I would try to help them by  
prescribing drug therapy as well as some form of counseling."

"Very wise," Garak said with a nod. "Here's a curious fact: Did you know  
that Cardassia has an almost nonexistent suicide rate? I wonder why that  
is? Do you know, doctor?"

"No." Julian began to feel very uncomfortable with Garak's line of  
questioning. He knew, logically, what he was doing but still, it was  
almost...

He murdered Ziyal, he reminded himself. Fuck fair play: he tried to  
murder a whole planet of people and he still might do it!

Actually, compared to what Sloan would be going through had he been the  
one running this interrogation, he was getting off lucky, he told  
himself. Too lucky. The questions cut deep, but he couldn't see how this  
was going to break Sloan. He started to worry a little then. He knew  
Garak was far more experienced with this sort of thing than he was, but  
maybe the Cardassian had lost his touch? Or perhaps Garak was holding  
back because of his presence?

"Cardassians have an incredible will to survive. It is something we're  
born with. When our planet was threatened with extinction we immediately  
regrouped and adopted a military plan of invade and conquer so we could  
survive, despite the fact that until that time we were a peaceful,  
loving, almost Utopian society dedicated to the arts and to our gods. We  
went from artists and musicians to soldiers and killers overnight and  
took what we needed to survive from our nearest neighbors, the Bajorans.  
It's mind-boggling when you consider the fact that we once lived in  
peace with them. They were our allies: did you know that? For millennia  
the Hebetians and the Bajorans traded freely and even worshipped the  
same gods. Now, most Cardassians either don't know that or refuse to  
discuss it, but it's true. I never told you that, did I, doctor?"

"No you didn't," Julian said, feeling mild surprise at the revelation.

Garak wrinkled his nose in mild distaste, "Religion isn't really a  
suitable lunch topic. Even now, despite my recent conversion, I'm loathe  
to discuss such matters, probably due to a lifetime of being conditioned  
to believe that the State is the only all-powerful entity there is. That  
opinion has changed, I will admit. Perhaps it's a part of growing older;  
one begins to seek out something greater than oneself, particularly in a  
time of great stress. For some that savior comes in the form of  
religion; for others it is a cause, some wrong which cries out to be  
righted. Do you believe in a god, Mr. Sloan?"

"No," he answered curtly.

"Then you are most certainly not this elder Samuels fellow. He was  
raised within the church of his ancestors: the Dutch Reformed Church.  
His father was a minister as was his grandfather and so on for  
generations. His son, in fact, was interred in the grounds of the church  
his great-great-great grandfather founded in South Africa. I suspect he  
chose not to attend because of some falling-out within the family, but  
that's merely wild speculation on my part. I imagine that breaking with  
family tradition and leaving the church of their ancestors must have  
greatly upset the elder Samuels's father and caused some family strife.  
You'd think, then, that he would have been more sensitive to his own  
son's wish to become an artist? Hmm...oh well, no matter. I know we  
mustn't judge, but personally I can't imagine not attending the funeral  
of my only child no matter how disappointed I was in how he chose to end  
his life."

"He didn't choose to die--he was murdered," Sloan bit out.

"Good point! Yes, Samuels insisted his son was murdered right to the  
bitter end. Does anyone wish to know how this tragic saga ends? Anyone?"  
Garak hesitated a moment before answering. "The elder Samuels died in a  
shuttle accident. It was quite tragic as it came right on the heels of  
his son's death. He couldn't be buried next to his son, however, as  
there wasn't enough left of him to send back to his family. You see,  
that's what made my associate believe you were this Samuels. Right after  
the accident, someone began to erase all of his files systematically;  
every mention of his existence began to slowly disappear. So slowly that  
it went unnoticed to everyone until I myself attempted to hack into the  
files. The only reason our records remained untouched is because they  
were in the vaults of the Obsidian Order. You see, the Order was of the  
opinion that this Samuels was a Federation operative who had infiltrated  
the Maquis, but that's neither here nor there. Even Mrs. Samuels  
believed her husband was alive, or so one could infer as she sought a  
posthumous divorce from him before she remarried. That's very unusual,  
isn't it, doctor? Posthumous divorces?"

"I haven't heard of many so, yes, quite unusual," Julian said from  
behind him.

"I suppose it must take a lot of unresolved anger to do something like  
that. I mean to divorce a man who is already dead? That information was  
deleted as well, not that Mrs. Asher probably ever bothered to check on  
it, and the Samuels family supposedly ended with the death of the elder  
David and his son so..." Garak suddenly looked up. "Wait a moment: why  
do you suppose someone would go so far to erase the life of a dead man  
no one would miss anyway? Doctor? No? Do you have a theory, Mr. Sloan?  
One spy to another."

"I couldn't care less, to tell you the truth," Sloan ground out.

"Because it is--what's the term your people use for such things? Oh yes;  
it is S.O.P., 'standard operating procedure', when creating a new  
identity, to 'kill off' and erase the old one. Very effective, and it  
probably would have worked had Samuels not been spotted by one of our  
own operatives who had infiltrated the Maquis as well. She even managed  
to send a picture of him to her handlers less than two weeks before she  
disappeared along with the rest of her shipmates. I, of course, was not  
aware of any of this at the time as I was already well into my exile  
aboard the station, but her handler and his superiors believed the  
shadow group, Section 31, may have had a hand in that as well. Perhaps,  
but I doubt it. After all, one of Starfleet's vessels disappeared around  
that same time and, as patriots to the cause, 31 probably wouldn't kill  
their own men. Probably. Whatever the cause of these events, the dossier  
on Samuels was closed. We do tend to hang on to information like that  
though, just in case. Samuels and his dossier were filed away only to be  
dug back out when Mr. Wendell Greer showed up on Deep Space Nine's  
security feeds. Wendell Greer--that's your alias, is it not? Funny. You  
and Samuels look similarly enough that you could be identical twins."

"Haven't you heard? Everybody has a doppelganger out there somewhere,"  
Sloan said. "Even the Cardies, although, to tell you the truth, all you  
spoonheads look alike to me."

"And this was such a pleasant conversation. It's such a shame that you  
had to interject childish and racist terms such as 'Cardie' and 'spoon  
head' into the mix." Garak clucked in disapproval. "Why do you people  
always go straight for the term 'spoonhead'? It's not at all creative or  
even insulting really. You have such vicious slanders for one another,  
yet for us the best you can come up with is 'spoonhead' and 'spoonie'.  
Why not call us Hebies or crocs or something with some bite to it.  
'Spoonie'," Garak said with distaste.

"I'm sure if I had a moment or two to think about it I could come up  
with something a bit more creative. Bastard, maybe? You are, after all,  
a bastard, right Mr. Garak? Your daddy Tain banged the maid and up you  
sprung," he said in a slow drawl.

"True enough," Garak said amiably. "I am a bastard, by birth and by  
nature. I have killed, I have tortured, and I have been an exemplary  
example of a true bastard since my very conception, but I have never,  
ever, set loose a plague upon my allies just as a means to an end."

"I guess you deserve a prize then," Sloan retorted.

"Oh, I'm no saint, as I just pointed out. I am a killer, a predator; it  
is in my nature to destroy that which threatens me."

"Am I supposed to start getting nervous now?" Sloan shot back.

"No, not at all. After all, to people like you and me, death is merely a  
part of what we do. It is the inevitable conclusion to our life's work.  
We serve death and we risk death. Believe me when I say I have no  
intention of doing you harm; however, as a personal courtesy from one  
murderous bastard to another, I swear to you I will not so much as touch  
a hair on your head."

"That would make this the nicest interrogation I've ever experienced  
then. Thanks a bunch," he said with insincere jocularity.

"Not a hair on your head shall be touched, as I said. Instead, I've  
decided the best way to deal with this is to take a page from your own  
playbook. Doctor," Garak turned in his chair. "On the table nearest you  
is a PADD. Would you pass it to me please?"

Julian frowned in confusion but did as he said, then moved to stand near  
Sloan so he could get a better look at what Garak was planning to reveal.

"During my many lunches with Dr. Bashir he once mentioned a curious  
children's story from your world called 'Rumplestiltskin'. I'm sure  
you've heard it, but just in case you haven't it is about an unholy  
bargain that was struck out of desperation. A young girl traded the life  
of her first born child to a demonic Ferengi-like creature in order to  
secure her future. When the woman later had her child and the creature  
came to retrieve his prize, she protested. The creature told her that  
should she guess his name she could keep her son." Garak brought  
something up on the PADD before turning it toward them both. "The reason  
I chose to recite this grim little tale is because this," he said,  
pointing to the picture of a young boy who was perhaps three or four,  
"is David Allen Samuels Webster. His mother is Karen Dennings Webster.  
She was the girlfriend of the boy who killed himself and he," he tapped  
on the toddler's picture in emphasis, "is their son." Garak turned the  
image back toward himself and smiled. "A handsome boy and very bright  
according to his nursery school reports." He clicked onto another  
picture and showed it to them. "This is a holoimage of Oscar Sisko taken  
just two days before his mother died. She died because of the virus you  
unleashed. Yesterday as I sat vigil with her husband on the eve of her  
body's death--her brain was already destroyed--the story of  
Rumplestiltskin kept running through my head. I have no idea why. Later,  
when I called my old associate from the Obsidian Order, I asked him what  
he thought it meant. My friend had never heard of this Rumplestiltskin  
so I shared with him what I could remember of it and, to my surprise, he  
greatly enjoyed it. He even went so far as to say he found it  
inspiring." Garak queued something up on the PADD and showed it to them.  
The video feed of a young boy riding a tricycle played for a moment  
before Garak turned it away again. "In case you were wondering, my  
associate, inspired by this tale, hired a freelance contractor to record  
these images earlier this morning. This operator has orders to take this  
child from his home and move him to a remote location where he will be  
subjected to a great deal of pain before his life is ended. This plan  
goes into action the moment the General Assembly is called into session  
to discuss the Phoenix protocol."

Julian's stomach began to churn in revulsion as he listened to what  
Garak was saying. Now he understood why Garak had chosen to approach the  
interrogation the way he had. This whole time he had thought he was  
grasping at straws and landing wild punches to Sloan's ego, but now he  
understood that Garak had been speaking with an agenda the whole time.

Sloan growled, "And how do I know that isn't just some stock footage you  
found and doctored up?"

Garak restarted the feed and turned the PADD on them. A kindly looking  
old man walking a dog appeared on screen. The boy, seeing the dog, got  
off of his tricycle and ran over. Garak turned up the sound and they  
could hear the boy ask, "What's his name?"

"Goldie," the man answered. "And what's your name?"

"Davy," the boy said with a giggle as the puppy licked his face.

"Davy? That's your whole name?"

"No, silly. I got a bunch of names!"

"You do?" the man breathed in amazement. "Do you know what they are?"

"Of course I do! My name is Davy Allen Samuels Webster and I even got a  
number in my name, too!"

"A number! I've never met anyone who had a number in their name before."

"Well I got one. It's a four!" He held up his fingers. "One, two, three,  
four--see!"

"That’s very good!"

From off camera a woman's voice could be heard calling the boy to lunch.

"That must be your mommy," the man said, looking up. "Do you know what  
her name is?"

"Yeah. Her name's Karen but we don't got a dog though. If we did got a  
dog I'd name him Goldie too," the boy said, ignoring his mother so he  
could continue to stroke the puppy's lush fur.

"What about your daddy?" the stranger asked.

Davy shook his head. "He died a'fore I was borned but his name was just  
like mine."

A woman came into view causing Sloan to gasp in shock.

"Davy! I told you it was time for lunch!" She looked up from her son and  
smiled at the stranger. "I'm sorry, was he bothering you?"

"Not at all," the man replied. "Goldie loves it when children stop to  
give him a scratch."

"Are you from around here?"

"I'm staying with some friends a few houses over." He held out his hand  
and smiled. "My name is Digby. Augustus Digby."

"Karen Webster," she said, shaking his hand. "We just moved in a few  
days ago."

"Can you bring Goldie back to play again soon?" Davy asked, hugging the  
small dog.

"Davy!" his mother cried.

"No, that's all right." The old man knelt down and ruffled the boy's  
blond hair. "I promise I will bring him back very soon--"

"ENOUGH!" Sloan shouted, struggling in his bonds. "You son of a bitch!  
You lay one finger on him and I'll kill you! I will fucking kill you!"

Julian swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as he watched  
Garak calmly turn off the PADD. "You murdered a girl I cared for very  
deeply, Mr. Sloan," Garak said. "I was very fond of Ziyal; she was like  
the daughter I never had. As I have grown older I have begun to  
understand the need one has for family, for a legacy. I never had the  
opportunity to raise my own biological child, but I have managed to  
gather around me several people who have filled that emptiness within  
me. Ziyal was one, her husband is now another, the children of this  
orphanage and the men and women who care for them are others: I have,  
surprisingly enough, come to think of them all as my family, Mr. Sloan.  
I'm sure you know this already, but to a Cardassian the only thing more  
precious than our own survival is the welfare of our family. In a  
Cardassia home, several generations live under one roof including  
extended family and in-laws. For me, this place was my roof and all who  
resided within the walls of this place were under my protection. You  
murdered a member of my family when you killed Ziyal. You invaded my  
home and have caused harm to those I have vowed to protect. So, to  
punish you for your crimes I will first take your grandson's life in  
exchange for Ziyal's, and then I will kill his mother, and your ex-wife,  
and everyone else you have ever loved until there is no one left."

"You fucking piece of shit--you touch him and I swear to God--!"

"God?" Garak shook his head. "You said you didn't believe in gods. Do  
you believe instead in the devil, Mr. Sloan? I do. You felt no  
compunction to care about the lives you stole when you set loose this  
plague, so why then should I care about your grandson, or any of the  
others for that matter? Why should I save this one child when you are  
prepared to massacre millions of children who are just as innocent as  
sweet, precious little Davy?"

"You will die screaming, motherfucker! That is a promise from me to you,  
you hear me?!? Me to you! YOU TOUCH HIM AND YOU DIE!"

"I have no intention of harming this child. After all, I'm merely a dead  
man on a planet filled with the sick and dying. I have no power  
whatsoever. I can't even contact the hitman watching so tenderly over  
your only grandson. I didn't hire him: my friend did. The instructions  
he gave him are simple, however: The moment his contact tells him that  
the Phoenix protocols have been enacted, young David will disappear  
never to be seen alive again. It will be a great tragedy. Despite that,  
please don't think we are completely without mercy. We are civilized men  
who live by a certain code after all. Karen Webster will receive the  
body of her son so he may be laid to rest beside his father." Garak  
paused for a moment in an exaggerated pose of consideration. "Not all at  
one time, of course, but eventually--"

Sloan let loose with an unnatural scream of animalistic rage and tried  
to launch himself at Garak only to succeed in turning over his chair and  
landing hard at the Cardassian's feet.

It was all Julian could do not to voice his own deep-felt horror at what  
the man he thought he could love was now saying. That Garak could so  
casually talk about murdering an innocent child--

He wiped the sweat that had gathered at the top of his lip and willed  
his body and voice to still. Garak had warned him, but he never expected  
this. Torture, yes. Pain, yes. Not this.

Never this.

"The only way to save your grandson is to stop the Federation from  
destroying Bajor. Do that and he lives. They all live," Garak said  
coldly as he stared down at the man lying on the ground before him.  
"Don't, and at least you will be comforted by the fact that if your god  
exists then surely he will have mercy on little David in the afterlife  
and the boy will be reunited with his mother within mere days. I believe  
you call the honored place of your dead 'Heaven', correct? If this  
Heaven exists then the child will surely find his place there. You,  
however, are destined for somewhere much less hospitable, I'm afraid."

"If I go to hell then you're coming with me, you murdering son of a  
bitch!" Sloan said, trying to kick out at him with his bound feet.

Garak moved away. "End this. Either tell us how to stop the virus or  
confess to setting loose this plague before Starfleet authorities so  
that Bajor can be spared until a virus is found."

"FUCK YOU! You are going to die screaming! You will die and watch all  
these fucking backwater shit sniffers die with you! Do you hear me?!?  
Fuck you and fuck this piece of shit planet! Fu--urk!" Sloan began to  
convulse and froth at the mouth, his eyes rolling up into his head.

"What's happening?" Garak asked in alarm. "Is he faking this or is it a  
reaction to the medication?"

The moment Sloan began to show signs of distress, Julian grabbed his  
tricorder and began to scan him. "No, he's had some kind of rapid acting  
toxin released in his system! I don't know how he even got it!" He  
slapped his comm badge. "Okuna! Code blue! I need a crash kit to the  
wine house stat!"

//We're on our way!// Okuna responded.

"Damn it!" Julian muttered as he released Sloan's bonds, shoved the  
chair away, and began manual CPR.

Sloan and Perreira rushed through the door moments later and looked  
around the scene in surprise.

"What the hell--who's this guy?" Okuna asked as he got down on the floor  
with Julian and placed the neural stimulator on the convulsing man's  
forehead.

"Never mind! Clear!" Julian ordered, activating the device.

Sloan's body jerked and Perreira scanned him. "No good!"

"Clear!" Julian ordered again and activated the device, cursing when the  
reading came back flat-lined on the stimulator's display.

"No good, doc. He's coming up flat all the way down the line." Perreira  
said, still scanning.

"What do you want to do?" Okuna asked.

Julian's lips tightened into a thin line. "Clear! I'm not letting you  
die on me you son of a bitch! Not yet!"

Sloan's body jerked a third time.

"He's gone," Perreira said, looking at the readings on his tricorder.

"It's over, doc," Okuna said.

"I need some epi!" Julian ordered.

"Doc--"

"Give me the goddamn hypo of epi, Okuna--now!"

Okuna handed the hypospray to Julian and he pressed it to Sloan's neck,  
then reactivated the neural stimulator. "Clear!"

"Nothing," Perreira said.

"He's done, doc. Let him go."

"He has to live!" Julian said, beginning manual chest compressions  
again. "Comm Girani! Tell her to prep the stasis pod for--"

"Julian..."

He froze and looked up at Garak slowly. The Cardassian stared down at  
the body with cold, lifeless eyes. "He's gone. It's over."

"No. No, we can't--!"

"It's over," Garak said sharply. "He won, we lost. Now we have to  
regroup and try something else."

"I can put him on life support until we can get him on a neural imager!  
Maybe we can--"

"It's too late," Garak said. When he spoke there was a grim finality in  
his tone that caused Julian's chest to feel as though all the air was  
being squeezed from his lungs. "We just have to go back, figure  
something else out. Sloan is dead and so is any chance we had of getting  
a cure from him. He made his choice and now...now we have to deal with  
the consequences."

*****

 

Julian held Kela tightly as the little girl wrapped her arms around his  
neck and began to babble about everything and nothing at all. He  
breathed in the scent of her clean, brown hair and planted a loving kiss  
on her forehead. She was still just a baby, he thought as he sat down on  
her bed and pulled her into his lap. Just a baby. Just like Davy Webster.

Just like all the others who were going to die because he failed.

He did his best to paste on a smile and concentrate on what the little  
girl was telling him.

"...and then Lessie hit Bo in the nose and Brother Lum made them both  
stand in the corner for like forever!" She said with big eyes. "Lessie  
was mad! I never seen him that mad a'fore."

"Why was he so mad again?" Julian asked.

Kela frowned at him. "I already told you! Bo took Lessie's ball away and  
threw it in the pond 'cause Lessie wouldn't let him share and that's why  
he hit him."

"I thought they were brothers?"

"Yeah, but they fight all'a time anyway--like ALL the time. Brother Lum  
said he was gonna cut a switch if he caught them fighting again. What's  
a switch?" Kela asked as she wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

"It's a--never mind. Here." He reached for a tissue from the nightstand.  
"Don't wipe your nose with your hand or you'll spread germs."

"Is that why Lewin got sick? Germs?" she asked, blowing her nose loudly.

"Sort of, yes." Julian said, putting his hand on the back of her neck  
and feeling for a temperature. "We'll wait until Gar--Elim gets here  
then we'll take you over to the med tent. I think you have a fever  
starting up."

"Do I got what Lewin's got?"

"More likely than not, I'm afraid." Julian said as he took the tissue  
and tossed in into the waste basket. He then put her off his lap so he  
could retrieve an antiseptic wipe and his tricorder from his bag.  
"Definitely a fever," he said as he scanned her. "You are definitely sick."

"Does this mean I get to stay with Lewin?" she asked. "I miss him."

"I know, but he's very sick right now and he needs to stay where we can  
keep a close eye on him."

"Can I visit him for a while?"

"Yes, but he's been given some medicine that makes him very sleepy,"  
Julian explained carefully. "If he stays awake he hurts and we don't  
want him to hurt, do we?"

"No." Kela said solemnly. "Is he gonna die?"

"No," Julian said, trying to believe it himself.

"Shayla said he was gonna die."

"Who's that?"

"She's one of the bigger kids." Kela said with a scowl. "I wanted to  
kick her hard but Brother Lum says the Prophets don't like us to do that  
so I didn't but I really, really wanted to."

"Shayla was mistaken, and Brother Lum was correct about you not kicking  
anyone."

"Yeah, but when I told her she was wrong she pushed me and called me a  
real bad word. If Lewin was there he wouldn't have let her do that to  
me. Lewin is real good about making the big kids not be mean to the  
littler kids."

Julian thought about kicking little Miss Shayla himself for a moment.  
"The next time this girl hurts you or calls you a bad name, you tell  
Brother Lum or find me and I will have a talk with her, understood?"

"Uh huh," Kela nodded. "Can I stay with you tonight in your room?"

"I think you should stay here tonight. I've got a lot of work to do, I'm  
afraid."

He looked up when he heard something that sounded like a large herd of  
elephants. The cacophony of stomping feet, high pitched laughter, and  
upraised voices reached them long before the crowd of youngsters did.  
The children, all between the ages of three to ten, came rushing through  
the door, their faces scrubbed and dressed in their nightclothes. The  
noise level in the room increased exponentially as they each scrabbled  
into the beds surrounding them, laughing and talking at the tops of  
their lungs.

The monastery had three dorms set up for the children, each of them long  
wooden structures. The one Kela and Lewin were assigned to consisted of  
a large communal sleep area, a separate quarters for the supervising  
adult, and a bathing area with multiple tubs, sinks, and toilets. It  
reminded Julian of the barracks he'd slept in at boot camp, only much  
cozier and brighter. This one was for the younger children: toddlers to  
pre-teens. Children twelve and up received rooms with somewhat more  
privacy; two to three to a room in dorms separated into boys' and girls'  
quarters.

Those dorms were empty now. For some reason, the virus seemed to affect  
the older children more than it did the younger ones. The children of  
the orphanage currently ranged in age from two to sixteen years of age.  
The youngest hybrid child in the orphanage, Lewin, had just turned  
seven, and he, along with the other eighteen Cardassian/Bajoran  
children, were now in the medical tent under light sedation. The  
youngest pureblood child to be as affected severely by the virus was  
thirteen. Why the virus seemed to target their victims by age as well as  
DNA he did not know. Perhaps, again, it had to do with the strength of  
their immune systems. Younger Bajoran children seemed more resistant to  
illness, probably due to the fact that most of them were born or raised  
during a time when better food and medical care became available to the  
majority of Bajorans. The rest had weaker immune systems carried over  
from having survived starvation and unsanitary living conditions for  
some or most of their childhoods.

Julian looked over the group of young children with a doctor's eye  
trying to determine if any of them had any outward signs of listlessness  
or discomfort. If there energy levels were anything to go by, they all  
appeared to still be healthy.

"It's very nearly your bedtime. I wonder where--ah." Garak made his way  
through the throng of noisy children and walked toward them. "Look who's  
come to say goodnight."

"All of you children need to settle down and get in your beds right  
now," Garak said in a firm tone; the noise level decreased dramatically.

"That was impressive," Julian said.

Garak smiled slightly in acknowledgement of his praise and walked over  
to them. He bent at the waist and kissed Kela on her forehead. "Hello."

"I missed you," she said, holding up her arms.

Garak picked her up and held her for a moment before frowning and  
looking into her face. "You feel a bit feverish," he said as he placed a  
hand on her forehead.

"I'm sick," she said, turning big, pitiful puppy-dog eyes onto the  
Cardassian. Garak looked toward Julian, his eyes filled with concern.

"She's fine," he said, getting up from the bed. "Five seconds before you  
got here she was chipper as can be."

"I see," Garak said, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"But I am sick," Kela said earnestly. "I got a fever and I feel real  
bad." She offered him a pitiful cough as evidence.

"Oh, that does sound bad." Garak nodded. "Is that all?"

"No. I also got a leaky nose with germs in it," she said, practically  
batting her eyelashes at him. "I think I got to stay with Dr. Julian  
until I get all better."

Garak looked at Julian with a raised eyeridge.

"Well, I need to take her to the med tent anyway," Julian said hesitantly.

"Yeah!" Kela squealed in delight.

"I thought you were sick?" Garak asked in mock surprise.

"I am!"

"You don't sound sick."

Kela's face fell and she offered him another feeble cough.

"I think we're looking at a future holovid star," Julian said with a snort.

Lum walked into the room and scowled at the children. "Now I want all of  
you in those beds and under your covers, you hear?"

The children started laughing at him and one little girl stood on her  
bed and held out her arms to him.

"And what do you want?" Lum asked her in mock annoyance.

"A hug," she said with a bright smile.

"A hug? Now why would I hug a scrawny little thing like you?"

"'Cause," she replied, still holding out her arms.

Lum grumbled and picked the little girl up before addressing the rest of  
the room. "Now all you hard heads need to get to sleep, you hear me? If  
I have to come in here I'm bringing a stick with me and knock you out  
with it. I'm old! I need my sleep!" The children laughed and the little  
girl giggled near his ear. "What are you laughing at?"

"You're silly!" she giggled.

"I'm silly? Why I'm gonna get that stick right now and you're the first  
one I'm gonna knock over the noggin, you hear me? Stop laughing, I mean  
it!" he said, dropping her back on her bed with a bounce.

The little girl scrambled under the covers with a huge grin, not the  
least bit intimidated by the old man's threats.

"Lights out, and I better not hear any giggling--especially from you!"  
he said, pointing to a small boy who snorted at him.

He walked over to Julian and Garak, shaking his head in disgust. "I  
swear, these kids are going to be the death of me. And why aren't you in  
bed, little Miss Troublemaker?"

"I'm sick!" Kela said happily.

Lum looked at Julian questioningly, his eyes filled with worry.

"Just a fever," Julian assured him. "We'll take her with us tonight just  
in case."

"Hmm," Lum said, giving her a fierce look. "Go on then, but just make  
sure you keep her. I've been trying to unload this one for a while."  
Kela laughed and laid her head on Garak's shoulder. "She seems chipper  
enough," Lum said on a more serious note.

"She'll be fine," Julian assured him. "Are any of the other children  
experiencing fevers?"

"Don't think so, but if any of them do I know where to find you."

"I can go ahead and scan them now--" Julian began.

"Don't worry about it," Lum said, cutting him off. "You and Brother Elim  
both look half dead on your feet. I'll lay a hand on each of them and if  
I feel anything I'll run them on over. These hands are experienced  
enough at feeling for fevers. You go on and take Miss Troublemaker  
along. See to it she gets to feeling better."

Julian nodded. "Thank you. I am fairly done in."

"Good night," Garak said to him before following Julian out.

"Good night to you as well." Lum looked around the room, "Now! Where did  
I put that stick of mine?"

The sound of children laughing followed them both as they made their way  
through the dark towards the medical tent.

"He's really good with them," Julian commented as he spared the  
children's dormitory one last look.

"Yes he is," Garak agreed. "Gruff, but the children seem to enjoy it."

"Gruff is one way of putting it," Julian said in amusement. "He seems to  
take great pleasure in threatening them with sticks and switches."

"You shouldn't be scared of him, Dr. Julian," Kela said, clinging to  
Garak sleepily. "He doesn't really got a stick, he just says that."

Julian grinned at her. "Thank you, that's good to know. I wouldn't want  
anyone to end up with a sore 'noggin'."

When they got to the tent Julian held the door open for Garak, who had  
his hands full with Kela, and ushered them inside. He led them to the  
scanning room where Okuna looked up at them from the desk with a frown.

"She okay?" he asked.

"Fever," Julian answered. "Can you get me a hypo?"

"Sure," Okuna said, getting up from the desk and going over to the med  
cabinet. "Are you going to scan her?"

"I think we should, just to be on the safe side," Julian said, taking  
her from Garak's arms and sitting her on the scanning table.

"Is it gonna hurt?" Kela asked, looking up at the scanner with wide eyes.

"Not at all," Garak assured her.

"I need you to lay down and be very, very still, all right?" Julian said.

Okuna held out the instrument. "Hypo--just a fever reducer, right?"

Julian nodded, then pressed the hypo to the girl's neck with a hiss.  
"That should fix you right up. Now," he said, handing the hypo back to  
the other doctor, "we're going to start this scan. Ready?"

"What's gonna happen?" Kela asked nervously.

"We're just going to look at your insides, okay bug?" Okuna answered for  
him.

"I'm not a bug!" Kela argued.

"Sure you are; a great big furry bug," Okuna said with a wink. "You have  
things covered in here, doc? I was going to go do rounds."

"Go ahead," Julian nodded. Okuna greeted Garak with a nod and slipped  
out of the room. "Garak, why don't you hold Kela's hand while I start."

Garak smiled down at her reassuringly as the machine started up. When  
the images began to come in, Julian frowned, studying them intently.

"Can you see my insides yet?" Kela asked.

"Stay still," Garak scolded her while he kept on eye on Julian. "Is  
everything all right?" he asked.

"Everything is fine and, believe it or not, we're already done. That  
wasn't too bad now, was it?" Julian asked, making sure to keep his tone  
light.

"Didn't hurt at all," Kela said, her eyes looking considerably more  
droopy than they had in the children's dorm.

"I think someone's getting sleepy."

"No."

"Are you sure?" Julian said, squinting down at her.

She giggled. "Yes!"

"Are you positive?" he asked, giving her tummy a tickle.

She began to laugh, pure and sweet as he continued to tickle her. The  
sound reminded Julian of tinkling bells and soap bubbles on the wind,  
but as lovely as her laughter was, the darkness that gripped his chest  
remained. "Let's see how that fever is doing," he said, reaching for his  
tricorder and looking at the readings. "It's falling. Very good."

She looked up at them. "Can I go see Lewin?"

"He's asleep," Garak told her. "And you need to be in bed yourself."

"Can I sleep next to Lewin?"

"I don't think--"

"It's fine," Julian said. "There should be an empty cot out there next  
to his. You go tuck her in while I go over a few things in here."

"Yeah!" Kela cried, but the look on Garak's face was anything but  
pleased. He gathered Kela in his arms and took her into the main part of  
the tent without a word, leaving Julian alone with his troubled thoughts.

He turned on the monitor and examined the images from Kela's scan. The  
infection was increasing; within a few days, she would be out there  
under sedation with the rest of them. If Kela' infection was  
progressing, chances are all of the Bajorans who had thus far remained  
mobile wouldn't remain that way for much longer.

He sat at the small desk and buried his face in his hands. "Fuck."

Some time later, Garak walked back into the room and shut the door  
behind him. "How bad is it?" he asked without preamble.

"She has three, maybe four days before she's where Lewin is now." Julian  
said, not bothering to hide his frustration.

Garak nodded solemnly. "I thought as much when you allowed her to sleep  
in the same room with the rest of the infected."

He shrugged. "It's not as though we can really isolate any of them  
anyway. At least this way she can spend some time with her brother  
before--" He stopped himself. "I'm sorry," Julian offered feebly. "She's  
just...I'm sorry."

"How close are you to a cure?"

"I'm not."

"You mean you haven't found anything that might help us?"

He looked up at Garak wearily. "No."

Garak rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Perhaps if we got some rest,  
things might look better in the morning."

"It's not going to get better, Garak," Julian growled, tossing his PADD  
aside in frustration. "Shit!" he said, scrubbing his hand over his  
scalp. "What are we going to do?"

"Sleep, regroup," the Cardassian suggested, sounding more tired than  
Julian had ever heard him sound.

"Okuna and Perreira still want to know who the dead man was in the wine  
house."

"What did you tell them?"

"I didn't, and they haven't asked again." Julian snorted.  
"They were whispering about it earlier, though. I overheard  
them. Their theory is that we killed him accidentally and  
so they've adopted a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy just in  
case there's a formal inquest later." He looked up at him.  
"They don't want to be called on to testify against us. At  
least we know we've got loyal friends, right?"

Garak sighed. "We'll come up with something to tell them so  
they can stop worrying about it."

He shot him a disgruntled look. "We have more to worry about  
right now, don't you think?"

"One step at a time, remember?"

"Fuck one step at a time!" Julian bit out. "These  
people--this whole planet is going to be destroyed if we  
don't figure out a way to end this!"

"Keep your voice down," Garak said sharply.

"Sorry." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Maybe you're  
right. We need to get some sleep, but I just--this is  
weighing on me too heavily right now."

"Come on," Garak said, turning to the door and holding it  
open.

"Where?"

"My cabin."

"A couple of days ago that would have come off as a veiled  
proposition," Julian said with a snort, "but even if it was  
and I managed to get anything started, it would probably  
last all of a minute and a half and only one of us would  
get anything out of it--barely."

"Tempting as that sounds, I believe I'll pass," Garak said  
dryly. "We need to find somewhere we can talk and not be  
overheard. I have no intention of offering you more than my  
couch right now. I'm tired and so are you."

"I'm not going to argue with you." Julian got out of his  
chair wearily. "After you."

\---

Julian stretched out on Garak's couch as best he could and  
watched as Garak started a fire in the fireplace. As soon  
as the logs were engulfed in flames, the Cardassian set the  
heavy kettle on the swing arm of the fire place and allowed  
it to hover above the dancing flames.

"You know, I really love the way the monks here believe in  
getting back to basics, but it would be really nice to be  
able to replicate a big cup of raktajino right about now."

Garak turned to him. "You still can. You just have to walk  
all the way over to the med tent, replicate it, then walk  
all the way back."

"Forget it; I'll wait for the tea," Julian said, moving his  
feet so he could sit down on the other end of the couch and  
stare at the fire. "I don't know what to do. It's like the  
answer is right there, right at my fingertips. All I have  
to do is reach for it but every time I get close--poof!  
Gone!"

"We have to look at the problem logically," Garak said,  
tenting his fingers in concentration. "Section 31 wouldn't  
have unleashed this virus unless they knew they could stop  
it."

"Just because they have a cure handy doesn't mean we can  
come up with one in the time we have." Julian pointed out.  
"Sisko figured on being gone ten days and we're at day  
eleven. The minute that Peace Summit breaks Bajor is  
history. They'll spend maybe a day or two arguing so it  
looks good then they'll vote to enact the protocols."

Garak sat back in the cushions of the small sofa, staring at  
the flames as if in deep concentration. "I keep wondering  
about the way the virus works. It's a mutagenic virus and  
yet, logic dictates, if you had a weapon like this you  
would want to design it in a way that you could simply shut  
it off if it began to get out of control. The agents of  
Section 31 may be ruthless, but they aren't careless or  
stupid. They would insist on a failsafe that would work no  
matter how many times the virus mutated."

"Which is why we thought we could use the White vaccine,"  
Julian said, stifling a yawn. "Didn't work."

"But it did--in a way. The vaccine shut the virus off for  
nearly two days."

"Then came back in spades."

"What if we--"

"Won't work," Julian said, shaking his head. "I know what  
you're thinking, but no. It doesn't work that way."

"Then what about something else entirely? The virus is an  
organic nanite, correct?"

"You want to try that EM pulse theory you had?" Julian  
supplied. "It's possible, but we're not dealing with a type  
of technology we've ever seen before. For all we know it  
could cause it to mutate again."

"Founder and Borg technology..." Garak muttered. "The answer  
is in there somewhere."

"Well, unfortunately the only Founder we know is Odo and he  
really doesn't know anything about his people. Even if he  
did, Fig isn't going to allow him to take a shuttle down.  
Besides, Founder technology is only half of it. There are  
no Borg in Starfleet."

"There are former Borg," Garak pointed out. "Perhaps there  
is something in their medical histories that could give you  
a clue as to how to proceed?"

"Maybe." Julian thought about it. "If I could figure out how  
they created the virus then I could find a way to stop it.  
Did Maehark's contact in the Idanian Intelligence Service  
find anything?"

"They went through Phlox's apartment but his computer  
systems were completely wiped clean. Sloan probably took  
care of that before he assassinated him."

"It just couldn't be that easy, could it?" Julian grumbled.  
"Still, most of Phlox's earlier work is in the database. We  
know he made this damn thing; if we start there maybe we  
can figure out how he did it."

"How long do you think it will take?"

"Weeks, months. It's definitely not something that can be  
done in a few days but if I can show that we're making some  
progress maybe that will be enough." The pot began to steam  
and Garak got up to retrieve some mugs from the table. The  
thoughts that had plagued him all day resurfaced as he  
thought about all that would happen should they not be  
successful in delaying the General Assembly's decision.  
"Garak?"

"Yes?" he said, setting the cups on the low table, then  
reaching for the cast iron pot with a thick hot pad. "I  
don't keep sugar in my cabin, I apologize."

"I'll deal with it," Julian said as he watched Garak pour  
the steaming water over the tea leaves. "I've been meaning  
to talk to you about what happened today, but I confess I  
really don't know how to...I don't know, approach it with  
you?"

"I knew you would bring it up sooner or later," Garak  
replied, handing him his cup. "Just ask what you need to  
ask, doctor. You won't offend me and it's far too late and  
we're far too tired for polite dissemblance."

"The boy--is he really going to be killed if the General  
Assembly votes to destroy Bajor?"

Garak didn't answer, he merely gave him an inscrutable look  
and asked, "What do you think?"

"Honestly?" Julian said, staring into his cup and watching  
as the leaves sank to the bottom. "I don't know. I want to  
believe you would never do something like that, that you  
could never do that to a child, but isn't that what the  
Federation is planning to do to every man, woman, and child  
on Bajor? I believe in the idea of how the good of the many  
outweighs the good of the few, but as a doctor I see the  
suffering of the individuals who fall into the lesser  
category and I'm not sure how to reconcile the two things.  
Just like I'm not sure how to reconcile the way I feel  
about you and us and how I felt when I heard what you said  
during the interrogation."

"That's why I didn't want you to be there," Garak said  
quietly.

Julian looked up at him and took a deep breath. "I realize  
that now. I just--I wanted to see Sloan suffer for what  
he's put us through--for what he's still putting us  
through. I wanted him to physically hurt. I couldn't  
understand how merely talking to him could possibly hurt  
more than physical torture, and then later, after you began  
to speak to him, I realized that torturing him would have  
been far less inhumane."

"And does that change how you feel about me?" Garak asked  
quietly as he sipped his tea.

Julian thought about that. "No, I suppose it doesn't. You  
said what you said for a reason, but I still want to know;  
is David in danger?"

"If I said he was, what then?"

"I would try to stop it."

"Why?"

"Why?" Julian frowned. "Because he's just an innocent child.  
He has nothing to do with any of this."

"So are the children here. They had no control over anything  
that has happened to them. They don't know anything about  
what is happening here. They are innocent victims, as  
innocent as any other child, and yet they have had to  
endure more loss and pain than most of the adults who are  
even now plotting their deaths. It isn't even about them,  
but about some political gambit to take over the wormhole.  
Because one small group has decided that they want control  
over something the Bajorans own and that could give them an  
advantage over their enemy, they are willing to destroy  
them. I'm not judging their logic, doctor. My people would  
not hesitate to do the same thing if they were in the same  
position, but am I not entitled to seek some small revenge  
for the deaths of all these people if it is within my power  
to do so? Section 31 and the Federation have decided that  
the lives of three billion people mean nothing--"

"Technically they haven't made that decision yet," Julian  
objected. "When Sisko finds out about it he may be able to  
convince them otherwise."

"He doesn't get a vote in the General Assembly. Some other  
person with their own objectives who has never seen Bajor  
and has no reason to protect anyone but himself and his own  
interests has that vote. Perhaps you are right and the vote  
will not be passed, but if you are not and the decision  
comes down against us, what then? We die, period. We become  
nothing more than a sad footnote in the history of your  
people. So, why shouldn't Sloan pay for his part in this?  
Why shouldn't his grandson pay for this with his life as  
Ziyal paid with hers? For that matter, why shouldn't I ask  
Maehark to arrange it so that Ross's children and  
grandchildren pay or better yet, place a bomb within the UFP  
headquarters which would eliminate everyone within the  
General Assembly?"

"You didn't, did you?" Julian asked in alarm.

Garak didn't answer him. "Why should I care what happens to  
any person who had some hand in this or any member of their  
families?"

"Because it's wrong!" Julian stated emphatically. "Killing  
one boy or a thousand other people won't change anything  
that's happening here! It won't stop anything, it won't fix  
the problem! You'd just be propagating a vicious cycle,  
can't you see that? It would just mean more death, more  
suffering, more victims."

"The men who came up with this virus didn't seem to care,"  
Garak said pointedly. "They decided that killing us is  
better than going to war with their true enemy. And what of  
the Dominion? Even if they get their way and the wormhole  
is destroyed, it won't stop anything. There are still  
Dominion agents operating within the Alpha Quadrant, we know  
that. If they are truly determined, they will find a way to  
still make their advance into our space. They are merely  
delaying the inevitable and at the expense of billions of  
innocent people."

"Don't--" Julian grimaced in frustration. "Just tell me; is  
there a bomb? What are you planning, Garak?"

Garak didn't say anything for a long moment. Instead he took  
another sip of his tea and stared into the fire. Just when  
Julian thought he was going to scream if he didn't answer,  
he said, "No."

"No bomb? And what about the boy?"

"The boy will live a long and happy life," Garak said  
quietly.

Julian breathed a sigh of relief. "I knew you wouldn't do  
it."

"Did you?" Garak asked with hooded eyes. "I could have, and  
not so long ago I probably would have. Tain was fond of  
revenge and he taught me to savor the taste of it from a  
very young age, but I suppose that time has left its mark  
on me. Revenge isn't as sweet as it once was."

"That's a good thing," Julian said, studying the shadows  
that flitted across the other man's face. "It means that  
you understand that there is more to life than catering to  
revenge or your own self-interests."

"If that is true then I fear I am in the minority."

"Maybe, but I want you to know that even though you may not  
think so, I'm happy that you've evolved," Julian said with  
a small smile.

Garak gave a brief humorless laugh. "You may be happy about  
it but if Tain were alive he'd denounce me as a coward.  
He'd tell me I was no longer a Cardassian."

"So what?" Julian said, putting his cup down on the low  
coffee table. "Who cares what Tain thinks? You are a  
Cardassian, Garak. You're also a good man despite the fact  
that you've had to live a not so good life. Your  
experiences may have helped shape who you've become, but  
they don't define you any more than my genetic enhancements  
define me. I hid my true self for years because I was  
afraid of being called a freak or a monster. I was just a  
child who had no say in anything that happened to me just  
as you never asked to be Tain's son. Despite that, we both  
grew up and became who we are because we decided to choose  
for ourselves what path we wanted to take. I became a  
doctor and joined the service because it's what I wanted,  
not my father or my grandfather. You chose to be here  
because you wanted to make a family even though your society  
sees hybrids as an abomination. You saw past that, Garak;  
Lewin has a father because you saw more than just who his  
biological parents were. You saw past all of that and that  
makes you a far better man than Enabran Tain ever was."

He stared into the flames. "Perhaps, but it doesn't change  
anything, does it? Tomorrow Lewin will still be sick and we  
still won't have a cure."

"I'll look into what you suggested tomorrow. Like you said:  
the answer is there, we just have to find it."

Garak got up from the couch. "I'll go find you a blanket."

"Thanks."

The tension that had gripped Julian's chest earlier had  
loosened somewhat, but it was still there. Despite what  
he'd said to Garak about revenge, he knew he also had been  
tempted to take an eye for an eye when Sloan was alive and  
strapped to a chair in the wine house. The fact that he  
might have deserved such violence didn't change things.  
Garak had obviously evolved, but did that mean he had  
de-evolved? Or was the man who wanted to inflict pain upon  
Sloan merely who he had been all along?

For years he had preached to Garak about Federation  
philosophies only to discover that in the end all of it  
meant absolutely nothing. He had accused Garak of being a  
hypocrite for choosing to take up a faith he didn't truly  
believe in, but wasn't he the greater hypocrite for all of  
that?

"Here," Garak said, handing him a thick quilt.

"Thank you."

"Will you be all right on the couch?"

Julian arched an eyebrow at the short sofa ruefully. "It  
will be a squeeze, but I've slept on worse."

Garak looked at the piece of furniture. "If you would like,  
you are welcome to use my bed instead."

"You won't fit on this thing any better than I will," Julian  
said, shaking his head.

"The beds in the monk's quarters are somewhat larger than  
the ones in the guest cabins. Not much larger, but two can  
share easily enough."

Julian looked up at him in surprise.

"We both need to get a good night's sleep." Garak said  
quickly. "If you are uncomfortable with the idea then I  
can--"

"No, that's fine," Julian said as he got to his feet. "As  
long as it's all right with you?"

"It's settled then." Garak headed toward the bedroom without  
looking at him. "If you'd like, you can use the bathroom  
first. I have some clothes you can borrow."

"Thank you."

"The towels are on the shelf."

"Right." Julian said, staring after Garak as he disappeared  
into his room before heading for the bathroom.

\---

Julian shifted in the bed and tried to get comfortable.  
Garak was still in the bathroom. He'd handed him a pair of  
sweats and a tee-shirt to wear then had disappeared inside  
without a word. The clothes were a few sizes larger than he  
normally wore, but the length was right as he and Garak  
were nearly the same height, and they were comfortable.

It's weird thinking of Garak in sweat pants and a tee-shirt,  
Julian thought. The Cardassian always seemed so  
well-tailored even in a rough brown robe. But if these were  
in his closet then he must wear them. They were nice and  
thick, he had to admit. He wondered if Garak was planning  
to wear something similar then flushed when he remembered  
walking in on him a few days earlier.

He had been in the nude.

Julian adjusted himself and rolled over. Stop thinking with  
your dick and get some sleep, he grumbled to himself.

He heard Garak enter the room and rolled back over to look  
at him. There was a towel slung around his waist; he was  
opening the drawers of his bureau and quietly removing some  
clothing.

Julian studied the play of the low light from the open door  
as it defined the muscles and scales of the Cardassian's  
back. He should have stayed on the damned couch, he  
thought. Although he was tired as hell, he began to feel a  
stirring of interest below his waist. Garak dropped a pair  
of socks and when he bent over to retrieve him, the thin  
towel stretched across his tight buttocks and rode up to  
reveal his nicely muscled thighs. Julian nearly moaned in  
frustration and sat back on the pillow, trying desperately  
to think of something that would keep him from completely  
humiliating himself in front of the other man. He rolled  
over and buried his face in his pillow so his erection was  
tucked safely into the mattress.

Garak must have heard him moving because he said, "I'm  
sorry. I thought you were already asleep."

"Not yet," Julian said, turning to him, a flush of  
embarrassment on his cheeks. "I meant to ask, um, which  
side do you prefer?"

"You're fine where you are," Garak assured him as he  
gathered together his clothes. "I'll be back in a moment.  
Did you find the other toothbrush?"

"Yes, thank you," Julian said, then he turned away. "I'm  
going to--y'know." He punched his pillow and snuggled in.  
"Don't worry about waking me up. I'm a pretty hard  
sleeper." So to speak, he thought.

"Good night."

Julian closed his eyes and began to breathe in and out  
rhythmically. He did his best to ignore the hard evidence  
of his arousal and, sure enough, as sleep began to pull at  
him his penis began to deflate. He was nearly under when  
Garak slipped in the bed beside him. As soon as the  
mattress dipped low under the other man's weight, Julian's  
eyes flew open and his nearly comatose dick sprung back to  
life. Garak's leg, which was encased in the silky lounge  
pants he had on the other day, brushed his own and the  
other man apologized quickly.

"It's okay," Julian said, staring at him.

Garak didn't seem to notice his stare or his lustful  
thoughts as he situated himself in the bed beside him. He  
turned on his side facing Julian and offered him a friendly  
smile. "Good night, doctor."

"Night," Julian said in a slightly strangled voice. He  
cleared his throat. "Excuse me--goodnight."

"Do you need some water?" Garak asked, turning to his bed  
table and pouring him some in a glass. "Here."

"Thanks," Julian said, slipping up in the bed a bit and  
accepting it. He took a long draught of it and tried to  
think of how he could get out of this as politely and  
painlessly as possible. He handed the empty glass back to  
the Cardassian. "Thank you. Are you sure this is all right?  
I mean, I can still--"

"You're fine, doctor." Garak said easily. "Good night."

"Good night," Julian said, eyes wide open and staring into  
the other man's relaxed features. "Garak?"

"Yes?" he mumbled.

"You can call me Julian if you want to," he said feebly. "Or  
Jules if it makes you feel more comfortable. I know that  
the, um, well--I'd understand if you felt funny about  
calling me Julian after..."

Garak opened his eyes. "Julian, then."

"Julian. Well, good night." He closed his eyes and rolled on  
to his back determined to sleep this time.

"Julian."

He felt the breath catch in his chest as he heard the  
Cardassian say his name. He rolled back over and stared at  
him, "Yes?"

"You can...call me Elim. If you'd like," Garak offered.

"Did...did he...?" Julian licked his lips nervously,  
reluctant to ask knowing how the other man felt about the  
Founder who had stolen his identity. He didn't want to  
destroy the peace they had found by upsetting him, but  
still, he had to know.

"No. No one has called me that in a very long time. Not  
until Kela began insisting on it." Garak smiled slightly.

"Elim," Julian said, feeling as though he had been given a  
gift.

Garak froze, watching his face intently. Time seemed to slow  
then as he leaned in and Julian held his breath. Garak  
kissed him softly and Julian's eyes shuttered closed.

He moaned and moved closer, wrapping his arms around the  
other man and teasing his lips with his tongue, exhaustion  
giving way to primal need.

He felt Garak's hands caress his back as he explored his  
mouth with his tongue, licking and nibbling at his textured  
lips. He pulled back long enough to pull his shirt over his  
head and then dove back into the kiss. He felt Garak's  
hands move down to his waist and push the sweatpants off of  
his hips and out of his way. He lifted up and quickly  
undressed himself, watching as Garak did the same. His  
eyes, already adjusted to the low light cast off from the  
moons which were visible through the narrow windows,  
watched as Garak exposed himself to him. He tracked the  
play of moonlight over his elaborately embellished chest  
down his torso until they rested upon the evidence of his  
own desire. Julian reached out and gripped him at the base  
of his shaft, pumping him experimentally as he reclaimed  
the Cardassian's mouth. Garak moaned and reached for Julian  
as well. He felt flush with heat as Garak's mouth left his  
to trail over his cheek to his ear. When his tongue flicked  
out to taste his earlobe he squirmed and gasped as teeth  
began to worry the tender flesh.

He ran his hand over the ridges of Garak's neck, squeezing  
experimentally. He was rewarded by an answering moan. He  
shifted his weight, rolling over until the Cardassian was  
underneath him. He kissed him once again then moved lower,  
licking and sucking at the smooth, soft scales of Garak's  
throat and down to his broad chest. He tongue dipped into  
the elaborate whirling indention at the center then he moved  
to take one of Garak's tight, hard nipples into his mouth.  
The Cardassian cried out and jerked his hips, grinding them  
against Julian's own as pleasure flooded them both. He  
lifted his body up, bracing his arms on either side of his  
companion and ground their erections together, pumping with  
his hips. It wasn't enough, though. He reached down with  
one hand and gripped them both, stroking them at the same  
time as best he could.

Garak moved, rolling them back over until he was in the  
position of dominance. The covers were beginning to tangle  
around their legs so Julian kicked them off, his eyes shut  
as he felt Garak explore him. Garak sucked at his throat as  
his hand replaced the one Julian had wrapped around them  
both and began to stroke them in time with the thrust of  
his hips. "Oh God, you feel so fucking good..." Julian  
breathed.

Garak kissed him, then moved lower on his body until his  
mouth was level to Julian's groin. Julian shut his eyes and  
breathed as he felt himself being sucked into the wet heat  
of Garak's mouth. His brain shut down until all he could  
think about was Garak's tongue and the hand that still  
gripped him, moving up and down as his soft lips wrapped  
around him.

"Wait-wait--" Julian said as his balls began to tighten and  
draw up. He pushed Garak onto his back and nuzzled at his  
erection, drawing the clean scent of soap and musk into his  
lungs before taking him into his mouth. He was careful to  
tuck his lips over his teeth as he swallowed him, his  
tongue caressing the shaft. He felt Garak's fingers tangle  
in his sweat damp hair as he gripped his hips to bring him  
further in his mouth. Julian wrapped his fingers around the  
other man's shaft, squeezing him as he provided a buffer  
against being choked by the rigid length of his lover.

Garak spread his legs, drawing his knees up to give Julian  
more room to maneuver. Julian lifted his head and stared at  
the almost unbelievable sight of Garak laid out before him  
like a feast, his most intimate self exposed and vulnerable  
to his heated gaze. He brought his hand to his mouth and  
gathered some saliva then reached between the Cardassian's  
thighs to reach for his opening. As his fingers began to  
explore him he took him once again into his mouth, his  
clever physician's fingers finding his prostate with  
unerring accuracy. He fingered him as he licked and sucked  
at his organ.

"More!" Garak gasped, pushing down and forcing Julian's  
finger deeper.

Julian lifted his head, "How much more?" he asked.

Garak stilled and locked his eyes onto Julian's.

"Do you have anything?" Julian asked, seeing the answer  
within his eyes.

"Some lotion in the bathroom."

"Stay there," Julian said, bounding off of the bed and  
heading out of the room. He opened the cabinet on the wall  
and quickly scanned its contents until he found a small,  
unmarked bottle of lotion. He opened it and sniffed the  
contents then squirted some onto his fingers and tested it.  
Satisfied that it would do, he went back to the room.

The sight that greeted him nearly left him breathless. He  
had never seen Garak like this; never thought he ever  
would. Naked, exposed, and almost unbearably beautiful. Why  
did it take him so long to see that?

"Are you coming?" Garak asked.

Julian walked to the bed and kissed him gently, lovingly. He  
moved on top of him and kissed his cheek, his ear, his  
throat, then nibbled at the twin ridges leading down the  
side of his ear and followed them up until he could dip his  
tongues into the delicate whorls. He teased him until Garak  
was practically growling with need then lifted up to squirt  
a generous amount of lotion onto his fingers and felt for  
the other man's opening once again. As he began to stretch  
him, Garak's head fell back and he began to claw at the  
sheets. Julian removed his hand, rubbing the excess lotion  
on his shaft then pressed against him until he slowly began  
to slip inside.

"Fuck!" he breathed, shutting his eyes and reveling in the  
tight grip of Garak's body. He began to thrust raggedly  
inside of him, reaching for Garak's erection and pumping it  
up and down quickly because he knew he wouldn't last long.

He felt Garak's shaft grow harder in his grip, smelled the  
release of musk and heat as Garak neared his orgasm and he  
let go allowing the explosion to take over.

He roared with relief and release as he came, some part of  
him acknowledging the splatter of wetness on his stomach as  
Garak's knees locked tighter, squeezing him as he erupted  
as well.

He shuddered and gasped, dropping his forehead to Garak's  
open mouth and feeling the Cardassian plant tender kisses  
there as the soft glow of satisfaction replaced the heat of  
sex. He rolled off of him then tugged Garak closer, holding  
him in a loose but loving embrace. He kissed him again then  
turned to reach for his discarded shirt which lay on the  
floor beside the bed. He wiped off his hands and then  
scrubbed his stomach and groin, then did the same for  
Garak, who watched him minister to him with bright,  
inscrutable eyes.

He tossed the shirt aside and reached for the tangled  
covers, kicking them straight. He then held out his arms in  
invitation. Garak kissed him briefly and pillowed his head  
on Julian's shoulder.

Julian smiled and said, "I thought you said we were going to  
take things slow."

"Five and a half years is slow enough," Garak said sleepily.

"Good point," Julian said, closing his eyes and allowing  
exhaustion to take over at last.


	13. A Quote; "When we long for life without difficulties,  remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made  under pressure." - Peter Marshall

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A Quote; "When we long for life without difficulties,   
remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made   
under pressure." - Peter Marshall

 

Julian looked down into Ziyal's face for the last time before closing   
the body bag and asking one of the monks to transfer her remains to the   
monastery's cold room. She had been a sweet young woman, he thought:   
Jake had been a lucky man.

Her autopsy had revealed something he should have suspected; the   
mutation hadn't begun in her nervous tissue but in her bloodstream. From   
what he could figure out, the White-based drug had caused the virus   
particles to mutate more or less on contact, transforming the virions   
into killing machines and unleashing them not just onto her   
already-weakened nervous system but also onto her respiratory system.   
Ziyal had become a walking, breathing virus factory, spreading contagion   
wherever she went, and that was why the adults, the older children, and   
Kela had been the first to show signs of infection: they had been at her   
wedding.

He should have seen it earlier, though. It normally took days, even   
weeks for drugs administered by hypo to fully penetrate the nervous   
system, and although the White base had sped up penetration of the   
ganglia, the drug had at the time of her death still been concentrated   
in her bloodstream.

There was something else as well. His scan of Ziyal had confirmed that   
the original, unmutated virus had first invaded her system via her lower   
respiratory tract. The mutated virus, on the other hand, seemed to be   
concentrated in the pharynx and larynx of those that had caught it from   
her. What had made the virus change its method of infection, he   
wondered. Was that the clue they-

"Doctor?"

He looked up; Garak had just entered the scanning room. The greeting on   
his lips died, however, as he took in the grim look on the other man's   
face. "What?"

"Captain Figueiredo just commed me," Garak said. "Starfleet has ordered   
all non-Bajorans to evacuate the system."

"Oh, God," Julian murmured as he took in a deep breath. "It's happening."

He nodded. "The summit broke this morning. The General Assembly is   
scheduled to meet in less than ten hours to discuss the situation,   
according to Captain Figueiredo's superior, Admiral Gilhouley."

"Son of a bitch."

"I can't help but agree."

Julian shook his head. "Ten hours."

Garak spoke again. "Captain Figueiredo assured me that she would give   
you, Nurse Perreira, and Dr. Okuna what time she can, but when the order   
comes she will have no choice but to allow one of the medical vessels   
orbiting the planet to lock on and beam you up."

"Beam *us* up," Julian said, correcting him. "That means you as well."

Garak shuffled his feet. "No, not right away."

"Why not?"

"I've made special arrangements with the captain," he said, his eyes on   
the floor. "She's agreed to allow me to stay until the last minute   
because of the children."

"What about our plan?"

"I have to be here to make sure the children and Dr. Girani are beamed   
up safely. Momo can attempt a second beam up."

"That wasn't the plan!" Julian said roughly as he got to his feet.   
"They'll be all over her ship within seconds!"

"The children will beam up first, then she'll piggyback the signal and   
hold our patterns in the buffer. Theoretically, it should--"

He glared at Garak. "Theoretically? It's - it's suicide and you know it!   
The odds of a Starfleet transporter being able to do something like that   
are a million to one, much less the transporter of a private vessel! And   
that's just if you're dealing with a single energy pattern in the   
buffer--you said *we* so I assume you're going to attempt to save more   
people?"

"Myself, Krath, and four other children," Garak replied. "If Bajor is   
destroyed, we must save at least one member of her government. We need a   
credible witness to testify that Section 31 was responsible for this,   
and I can't be that witness."

"That wasn't the plan," Julian repeated, advancing on Garak and placing   
his hands on his shoulders. He looked deeply into the other man's eyes   
and made sure to speak softly but firmly. "You and I will be beamed up   
to the ships together and *Girani* will make sure the children are saved   
later."

"Julian--" Garak began in a tone Julian knew all too well.

"No!" He shook his head. "Damn it! You aren't doing this!"

"We have to save as many as we can," Garak said, his chin set.

"Yes, and six is as many as we can save. You attempt this and you will   
be risking all our lives, not just your own. Please," he said, "just   
once, just this one time, put aside your--your pig-headed nature and   
listen to me! I am telling you! This will not work! The risk far   
outweighs the rewards!"

Garak dropped his eyes. "I realize that the odds are not in our favor,   
but this is how it has to be. I've already made the arrangements with Momo."

The matter-of-fact tone in which Garak spoke made Julian's head ache and   
his chest tighten with fear. Unable to come up with anything else to   
convince his companion to listen to him, Julian simply said, "I love you."

Garak's eyes widened in shock. "But--"

"I know that it's fast," Julian continued, forestalling any argument. "I   
know that. I know I don't have any right to ask you to listen to me but   
it's true. I love you--God, I love you so fucking much." He took a   
breath and got his emotions back under control, meeting Garak's eyes   
again as he rested a hand on his shoulder. "And after all the shit we've   
been through I *cannot* lose you, do you understand me? I can't risk   
it--not now. Not yet, Garak. It's too much to ask."

"Julian--"

"No, Elim," he said, interrupting him. "I can only take so much and,   
damn it, I am telling you right now that you have to do as I say! I   
don't care how that sounds, I don't care if I come off as some kind of   
arrogant controlling arse, but this is it. No more, do you hear me?! You   
and I are going to survive this, and we are going to survive it   
together--all four of us." He took Garak's hand. "We're going to take   
Lewin and Kela and the others and find somewhere to regroup and figure   
out what to do next, but I am not doing this without you. I can't--I   
can't do this without--without..." He closed his eyes against the sting   
of the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

He felt textured fingertips brush his cheeks; he looked up into Garak's   
soft blue eyes. "I will try my best to survive this, I promise," he said.

"That's not good enough."

Garak looked away. "Perhaps we can...we have ten hours to come up with a   
different plan. It's possible that we'll be able to figure something   
else out."

"Ten hours?" Julian said incredulously.

"Ten hours is all we have. We've made do before with less in far worse   
circumstances."

"Worse--?"

"Look around," he said. "No guards, no force fields, no enemy ships   
firing at us..."

"Oh, yeah: ten hours under these circumstances is practically a walk in   
the park," Julian bit out. "Ruthless pandemic, armed Starfleet ships   
locked on our location, and various other niggling little details aside,   
I'm feeling really good about our chances now that you've put it all   
into perspective!"

"Exactly."

"I'm serious, Garak--"

"I know," he said, his voice low. "Anything that could get Julian Bashir   
to commit emotionally would have to be."

Julian bowed his head, touching their foreheads together as he wrapped   
his arms around Garak's shoulders in a loose embrace. "You pick the most   
inappropriate moments to do this. What is it with you and dark humor?"

"I like to laugh in the face of death."

He grinned. "You annoy me so much, do you know that?" he said, before   
capturing his lips in a kiss. When they broke apart, he whispered,   
"We're going to think of something else, do you hear me?"

"I do hear you. We will try."

"Not try: we will think of something else." He moved away from their   
embrace reluctantly. "Listen, I'm close to something with the virus, I   
know it. Let me work on this for just a little while longer. Just   
don't--don't do anything stupid or brave or both, all right? Keep   
monitoring the transmissions and do what ever it is you do, just please,   
please let me try to work on this a little while longer."

"Do you really think you can come up with s solution in the time we have?"

"Look," Julian said, "you just told me that ten hours is a long time.   
I'm only asking you for five. Five hours of me being able to focus on   
this without worrying about you, all right?"

"Five hours," Garak agreed. He moved to the door and stopped, turning to   
face him again. "Julian..."

"I know." Julian said. "You don't have to say it though. Not until   
you're ready."

"I was just going to say that if you would like, I can bring you your   
meals," he said with a small smile. "That way you can fully concentrate   
on the task at hand."

"Oh, right; thanks," Julian said, feeling like a complete idiot.

"And I love you, too." Garak slipped out of the room without another word.

Julian shook his head, his eyes still on the door. "That man," he   
muttered. "I swear he's going to drive me insane."

****

Daniel Okuna walked across the grounds on the monastery toward his   
quarters and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was tired, bone tired, and all   
he wanted to do was grab a few hours of sleep before he headed back into   
the med tent.

He let out a great spine-cracking yawn accompanied by an enormous   
stretch, eyes shut and arms splayed out above him. It had been a real   
bitch of a night and all he wanted was clean sheets and a soft--

"Hey! Watch it!"

His eyes flew open and he realized he had nearly run smack dab into   
Girani, who was exiting their shared cabin.

Fuck. "Sorry." He moved aside to let her past.

"No, wait," she said, stopping him. "I meant to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Um, did Bashir tell you what happened yesterday yet?"

"No, and frankly I'm not going to ask either."

She frowned. "Okay. That's all I needed to know."

"All right then; good night." He headed for the door.

"Okuna?"

He turned. "Yeah?"

Girani looked at him with an odd expression on her face. "Uh, how did   
the fetus do last night?"

"He's fine. Machine's working great."

"One more thing--"

Okuna sighed, turning to face her again. "Yes?"

"Do you get the feeling that Dr. Bashir is keeping something from us?   
He's been acting very strangely and he never made it to his cabin last   
night. Did he sleep in the cot in the med tent again or what?"

"First off," he said wearily, "no, he didn't sleep in the med tent. I   
don't know where he bunked down, and frankly I don't care. He's a big   
boy and what he does in his off hours is none of my business. Secondly,   
of course he's acting strangely; he and Garak were standing over some   
dead guy yesterday that none of us had ever seen before. I say that   
whatever those two are doing, we're better off keeping our noses out of   
it. Now I'm really tired, Girani, so if there isn't anything else...?"   
He gestured to the open door of the cabin.

"No, that's all I needed."

Okuna turned back, but before he had taken a single step, Girani said,   
"Just--one more thing!"

He closed his eyes and paused at the threshold of the cabin, then turned   
to her--again. And for the last time hopefully. "What?" He said, his   
tone reflecting his growing annoyance.

Girani gave him an odd look, "Um, about the other night..."

Oh, man..."What about it?"

"I just want you to know that I didn't mean to hurt your feelings about,   
you know..." she said, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "I didn't mean   
to imply that I didn't enjoy it or anything, I just meant that since we   
work together it probably wouldn't be a good idea to...well, see one   
another socially."

"It was just sex, I was a total stud, gotcha--now, I am really tired.   
Can I just go to sleep?"

"Well, I wouldn't say you were a 'stud' but--"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Look! I get it! It was a one-time deal   
and we both got something out of it! Great! You didn't hurt my feelings   
and you know what? I'm a big boy too, Girani. I'm not going to stalk you   
or cry foul and demand that you make an honest man out of me. Are we   
done? Thank you!" He turned back determinedly toward the door.

"Okuna--"

"I'm not turning around again. You want to talk to me, you can do it   
while I'm in the shower."

She hurried after him. "I wasn't trying to pick a fight with you! I just   
wanted to clear the air between us!"

"It's clear. I'm fine. We're good." He walked into the bathroom and shut   
the door behind him. "Have a nice day, Girani." He pulled his shift over   
his head and tossed it in the hamper, then reached for the button of his   
jeans.

"I just wanted to talk to you and you're acting like a total asshole!"   
Girani said through the door.

"I just got off of a long, long shift. I'm sweaty, I'm tired, and I   
really just want to get a few hours of sleep. Pick somebody else to make   
miserable today because, frankly, I'm done!" He pulled off his jeans and   
underwear and tossed them aside as well, then turned on the taps.

"You're being very immature, Okuna!"

"I'm being immature?" he asked incredulously. "You're the one shouting   
at me through the bathroom door after I've told you fifty times already   
that I get that you don't want to sleep with me again. I'm over it, all   
right? Drop it already, Jesus Christ!" He turned on the shower and   
started to step in when Girani spoke again.

"I didn't say I didn't want to sleep with you again!"

He froze.

"I just said I didn't want to go out with you!"

He shut off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist, then yanked   
the door open. "What?"

Girani stood there with an annoyed expression on her face. "I wanted to   
talk to you so we could come to some kind of understanding, but you   
wouldn't listen to me."

"I'm listening now! But did you say you wanted to have sex with me again   
or not, because I had the water running and I might not have heard that   
right."

"No, that's what I said."

"Now?"

"No, not now!" She scowled. "I have to go to work now, but maybe, if you   
and I feel like it, we could..."

"Have sex."

"Yes."

"No strings attached."

"Exactly."

Okuna took a moment to consider that. "Let me get back to you on that."

He moved to shut the door and she stopped him. "What the hell is that   
supposed to mean?" she asked.

He shook his head wearily. "It means that I don't particularly like the   
idea of being your boytoy, Girani. Maybe that makes me weird or   
something, but the idea of sneaking into your room whenever you get the   
urge so I can be booted out of your bed the minute you're done doesn't   
particularly appeal to me."

"So you're turning me down?" she asked, her surprise obvious.

"I guess so," he said with a smile. "Bye." And he slammed the door in   
her face.

*****

Julian's eyes were beginning to cross. He'd gone over the scans Girani   
and Perreira had taken yesterday of the patients in the medical tent,   
he'd reviewed the results of Ziyal's autopsy, he'd even gone back to the   
tent and rescanned some of the patients, but nothing. No explanation of   
how the virus had changed its method of infection; no explanation of how   
the White had transformed it; most importantly, no cure. He hit his comm   
badge. "Girani?"

//Yes?//

"Can you come in here for a moment?"

//Be right there.//

He clicked off the monitor and sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.   
He knew the answer was in front of him, but what it was...

"You called?" she said as she rushed through the door.

He looked up into her tired eyes. "Have you had time to look over the   
scans we took yesterday?" he asked.

She frowned at him. "I did. Why?"

"Did anything stand out? Anything at all?"

"No, nothing in particular. What exactly are you looking for?"

"Natural immunity," he said. "We've got a remarkably heterogeneous   
population here for the size. There are Bajorans from every continent   
and hybrids whose fathers probably came from every planet in the Empire.   
It doesn't seem possible that such a varied lot would become infected so   
uniformly, but--"

"--but the differences in viral load are more closely related to age   
than to anything else," Girani finished. "You're right; that doesn't   
make much sense."

He frowned at the darkened monitor, then reached over and switched it   
back on. "Listen, did we get everyone yesterday? I know some of the   
monks were busy caring for the older children."

"I don't know," she replied. "To be honest I wasn't operating at peak   
efficiency, and I didn't perform all the scans myself. Perreira was   
helping."

He opened his mouth, then thought better of what he had been about to   
say. "Is Brother Reven out there?" he asked her instead.

"Yes, he's helping me feed the patients."

"Ask him to step in," he said.

As he waited for Girani to fetch the monk, he brought up the list of   
scans the medical staff had performed yesterday. He'd almost snapped at   
Girani when she admitted she didn't know whether they'd missed any   
monastery personnel, but that wouldn't have been fair: had he been as   
sick as Mirat, he'd likely have missed a few things as well.

The door swung open again. "Dr. Girani said you needed me?" Reven asked,   
as Girani followed him back into the room.

He motioned Reven over. "I'd like you to look at this list of names," he   
said, pointing at the monitor, "and tell me if anyone is missing."

Reven peered at the list. "Let me see...Sister Hara's not on the list."

"Sister Hara?"

"Yes, our winery supervisor," Reven said.

He frowned. "Where is Sister Hara now?"

"Probably pruning the aguaba trees. Why?"

"She didn't give us a blood sample."

"That doesn't surprise me," he said, arching an eyebrow. "Sister Hara   
was forced to work in a morgue during the Occupation; ever since then   
she's been terrified of anything resembling a medical facility. I   
suspect she's kept her distance by taking over the duties of our fallen   
brothers and sisters all week."

"Phobia or not," Julian said with a shake of his head, "I need to test   
her immediately. Within ten minutes, if at all possible."

"I'll go look for her now," he said, running a hand through his sandy   
blond hair as he straightened. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Not yet, but without a complete picture I can't really be sure of   
anything."

Reven nodded. "Give me five minutes."

As soon as he was gone, Julian returned to the data they'd already   
collected. If he could find one patient who had developed a better   
immune response...

The comm panel suddenly chirped. He rose to his feet and activated the   
console.

The face of a slim, dark-skinned woman appeared on the panel. //Dr.   
Bashir?//

"Captain Figueiredo? How can I help you?"

//I'm afraid that I need your people to report to the medical ships   
within the hour,// she said, her countenance grim.

"You told Garak we had at least ten hours before anything was going to   
happen," Julian objected.

Figueiredo avoided looking him in the eye, her manner obviously   
disturbed. //I'm sorry. The order just came in. I'm afraid you're out of   
time.//

"But we're close!" Julian burst out. "Tell them to hold off for just a   
little while longer."

//I can't. Admiral Gilhouley tried to buy you as much time as he could.   
He even got the General Assembly to hear from Captain Sisko, but--// She   
looked at him. //I'm sorry, doctor. You have one hour and then the ships   
have orders to lock on your signal and beam you up. If you do not comply   
then we cannot guarantee your safety.//

The screen went blank and Julian stared at it in horror.

An hour.

Garak--

"Dr. Bashir, this is--" Reven began as he walked through the door.

"Have Girani take her sample!" he cried, pushing past the monk and his   
companion, a tiny, arthritic woman in her late sixties.

He practically ran all the way to Garak's cabin and burst through the   
door. "Garak!"

The cabin was empty so he headed back out. Where the hell was he? His   
eyes scanned the grounds desperately. Where would he go? Where? His eyes   
lighted onto the schoolhouse at the other end of the compound. He took   
off in a jog and rushed past the children who were playing in the yard   
and stepped into the building. He began to peer into empty classrooms   
until he heard the sound of voices in the back. He walked through the   
last door. "Garak! Garak, Captain Figueiredo just--!"

"We know," Garak said quietly. Lum stood near him, his features gray and   
ashen.

"You told him."

"I had to," Garak said. "I need him to help me keep the children   
together for the transport."

"I can't believe this is happening," Lum muttered. "The Federation are   
our allies!"

"She said we still have an hour," Julian said quickly. "How close is Momo?"

"She's as close as she can get without setting off any alarms," Garak   
said quietly. "I've already given her the coordinates for the transport.   
Have you found anything yet?"

"Not yet, but I have a possible lead."

"We're going to time it so that Momo transports the children at the same   
time you and the others are being transported," Garak said, "so that if   
the ship's sensors pick anything up they'll assume it's some sort of   
signal distortion. However, they'll know something is up when they see   
the second transport--"

"You said you weren't going to do that!" Julian said, his eyes blazing.   
"We agreed!"

"Brother Lum, could you excuse us please?" Garak asked.

"I'll...just go and ready the children," Lum said wearily as he moved   
past Julian and walked out of the room.

Julian waited until Lum had gone before he turned to Garak once again.   
"Lum can make sure the children are transported up safely. You are   
coming with us to--"

"No."

"No? NO?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it," Garak said, his voice deceptively calm. "After the   
second transport they will know we were planning something. We'll be   
taken into custody for who knows how long and in the meantime Dr. Girani   
and the children will be on their own out there somewhere with no   
resources and nowhere to go. I need to be there."

"So have Momo contact your friend Maehark! Set it up in advance!"

"Even if Maehark were willing to cooperate with Momo, I doubt that   
either she or Girani would be willing to trust a strange Cardassian with   
their lives or with the lives of the children."

"Garak, please!" Julian begged. "We can figure something else out."

"There's no more time."

"You lied to me this morning, didn't you?" Julian asked, his voice   
barely a whisper. "You didn't even consider a different plan."

"We need to save as many lives as possible. Two transports is a risk,   
but if we can save twelve lives it's worth it."

"And if Momo can't do the second transport? You'll be stuck here. I   
won't be able to save you."

Garak's gaze was sad but determined. "Then at least there is a chance   
that Kela and Lewin can still be saved."

"It's not enough."

"I know."

Julian stared down at the floor, feeling as if he'd been beaten to a   
pulp. "Five and a half years. I wasted five and a half years and now,   
just when everything is finally coming together..."

"We don't know that," Garak said, stepping closer and placing his hand   
on Julian's shoulder. "Momo is a smuggler by trade. She was also a damn   
good Resistance pilot. She knows how to get past sensors and her ship is   
fast enough to outrun patrol vessels. If anyone can pull this off, she can."

"Can you trust her?" Julian asked.

"I trust her and I trust in her skills. We will see one another again, I   
promise."

"Don't lie to me."

"I will see you. We will be together, I swear."

Julian pulled Garak to him. Their lips met in a bittersweet kiss filled   
with sadness, longing, love, and regret.

"Swear to me you won't die," Julian murmured against Garak's cheek after   
they parted.

"I won't die."

"And you'll figure out a way to let me know where you are."

"As soon as I can."

"I'm never letting go of you again after this," he said, tilting Garak's   
chin up with a finger. "From the first day I met you my life began to   
change, and mostly for the better. There's something between us, some   
kind of link that keeps us coming back to each other. I don't know what   
it is or what it means, but you and I are walking the same path. We   
always have."

"So you're saying we're destined to be together?" Garak asked, his eyes   
twinkling with amusement.

"I'm saying that if there is some higher power out there, then it has a   
plan for us, and I don't believe it's supposed to end here." He placed   
his hand on Garak's cheek. "You and I are meant to be, Mr. Garak."

He looked up into Julian's eyes. "Things must be dire if you're not only   
making emotional declarations but converting from a confirmed atheist to   
a true believer all in the same day."

"It's a bloody miracle," Julian agreed with a chuckle before kissing him   
again.

//Dr. Bashir!//

Julian broke away from the kiss reluctantly and hit his comm badge.   
"Yes, Girani?"

//I just ran the blood test on Sister Hara.//

"That's fine. Listen, I'll be there in a few minutes--"

//No, wait! We need you right now! She isn't carrying the virus!//

"What?" Julian cried. "Are you sure?"

//Her blood sample didn't show any sign of infection, so I put her under   
the scanner. Her system is completely free of virions!//

"I'll be right there," he said as he sped out the door.

****

Within minutes, all three doctors were gathered around Sister Hara, who   
was looking around at the infirmary walls, abject terror in her eyes.

"What makes her different from the rest of them?" Okuna asked, smoothing   
down his sleep-tousled hair.

"Nothing," Girani said, looking through the test results. "She has a   
common blood type, she has no unusual genetic markers according to the   
basic scan we've done, she's had all the usual childhood illnesses   
common to Bajorans, and she doesn't appear to carry any Cardassian or   
other alien genes. There's nothing here."

He frowned. "We could do some more tests. I can have a full genetic   
makeup done in a couple of hours--three, tops."

"We don't have that kind of time," Julian snapped, turning to Okuna. "We   
have thirty minutes to come up with something I can show Captain   
Figueiredo. If we don't have something by then she's under orders to   
evacuate us."

"Evacuate us? Why?" Okuna asked with a frown.

"It's a long story and one I don't have time to tell," Julian replied.   
"The point is that we have to figure out something right now, not in two   
hours." He turned to Sister Hara, who fidgeted under his laser-like   
gaze. "Is there anything we need to know that isn't in your medical   
history? Allergies? Medications you may have been taking? Vitamin   
supplements? Anything?"

"No!" Hara said, her gray eyes round with fear. "I haven't had anything   
like that!"

"Maybe it's something to do with something she comes in contact with   
everyday; do you handle any manure or other kind of fertilizer?" Okuna   
asked.

"Or do you handle any type of chemicals?" Girani asked. "Or were you   
treated for anything during the Occupation you aren't telling us about?"   
Girani asked. "Have you ever had a sexually transmitted disease? Were   
you raped during-"

"I--I never!" She jumped up from her chair and glared at Brother Reven,   
her cheeks blazing as she pointed an accusing finger toward Girani. "Did   
you hear what this impertinent young woman just asked me?!?"

Brother Reven looked at her apologetically. "Sister Hara, I know these   
questions are difficult, but they could hold the answers which could   
save the lives of everyone on Bajor outside this room. Do you really   
think that your injured modesty is worth the lives of millions of   
Bajoran children?"

"But..." she sputtered, then frowned. "Of course not. I just-"

"Is there anything you can tell these doctors which may help them?   
Anything at all?"

"No! I don't have any allergies, I don't take any medicines or vitamins,   
I don't handle chemicals or *manure*, the Cardassians left me   
alone--thank the Prophets for that--and I certainly have never done   
anything which would expose me to-to-to what she said!" she squawked,   
pointing again at Girani. "I just want to get back to the winery! I have   
a lot of work to do and I haven't been there for days!"

"What about your diet? Do you eat with the other monks?" Julian asked.

"Of course I do!" she said then turned to Reven again. "If I don't   
finish bottling the early wine we won't have any to sell next season."

"If we don't find a cure for this disease," Julian said, his voice   
harsh, "there won't *be* anyone to buy the wine or drink it! They'll all   
be dead!"

Hara paled. "I had no idea...I just..."

"The wine!" Okuna suddenly said. "Maybe it has something to do with the   
wine!" He turned to her. "Do you handle any sort of chemicals when you   
make the wine? What do you wash the bottles with?"

"The wines contain nothing but aguaba fruit and yeast," she replied, her   
brow knitting. "We wash the bottles with plain detergent and sanitize   
them with sodium metabisulfite."

"Could the sulfites be the difference?" Girani asked.

Reven shook his head. "Aguaba fruit contains more sulfites naturally   
than the sanitizing procedure adds. We actually extract the sulfite from   
the bark the trees shed every spring."

"And the children eat the fruit, so if it was the sulfites, they'd be   
immune," Julian said.

"Pesticides?" Girani suggested. "What do you spray on the trees?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Aguaba trees are naturally resistant to insects   
and most plant diseases. Besides, everything here is completely organic."

"Hold on," Julian said. "Aguaba trees are resistant to diseases? Could   
that be it? Does everyone drink the wine?"

Reven shook his head. "Not the children, but most of the monks - with   
the exception of Brother Lum, of course."

"Lum has the virus," Girani supplied.

"And you drink the wine as well?" Julian asked Hara.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I drink it! I also test it several times   
throughout the fermentation process to ensure it's maturing properly. I   
take great pride in my wine, thank you very much! Our cellars contain   
the finest vintages of aguaba wines on Bajor."

Girani rolled her eyes. "They aren't that great."

"Excuse me?" Hara turned to her with blazing eyes. "And what would you   
know about it?"

"Because I drank a couple of bottles of it the other day. Tasted like   
rotten fruit juice and dirt water to me."

"You don't know what you're talking about! My wines are the pride of our   
order!" The little woman huffed. "In addition to being a rude and   
impertinent young woman, you also have a-"

"Hold on!" Okuna suddenly turned to Girani. "Where did you get the wine   
you drank?"

She thought for a second. "From the bench in the wine room. Why?"

Hara's mouth dropped open. "No wonder it tasted like dirt! Those were   
our test bottles from this fall's harvest! Our wines take at least two   
years to-"

"Phytoalexins!" Okuna shouted. "I should have known this!"

They all turned to him. "What?" Girani asked.

"Phytoalexins--they're chemicals in wine. Mum got my sister Charlie and   
me interested in making our own wine one summer when we visited Aunt   
Margaret out in Kelowna." He leaned against the desk. "Red grape wine   
contains a chemical called resveratrol, which is a type of phytoalexin."

"You said aguaba trees are resistant to most plant diseases," Julian   
said to the monks. "Does that include fungi?"

"Like mushrooms?" Hara asked. "Well, yes. Neleh mushrooms grow on the   
tree bark but they don't affect the fruit if that's what you mean."

"What is a 'phytoalexin'?" Reven asked in confusion as Julian sat down   
at the terminal and began to scan through information furiously.

Okuna moved to stand behind Julian, reading over his shoulder. "It's a   
natural antibiotic," he said to Reven, "a very powerful antibiotic that   
plants produce when they're under attack from bacteria or fungi. The   
phytoalexins would still be present in the early stages of the   
fermentation process. Scientists used to experiment with them to find   
treatments for everything from viral infections to cancers." He turned   
to Girani. "Get on the table!"

"What?"

"Get on the table!"

He switched on the neuroscanner and waited until Girani was settled,   
then began a scan. "When was the last time you had to take anything for   
your symptoms?"

"My symptoms? For the virus?" She shrugged. "I don't know; a couple of   
days, maybe?"

"Dr. Bashir!" Okuna said excitedly. "Look!"

Julian rose to his feet. "What do you - they're dying!" he cried.

"The viruses? But why are they dying?" Reven asked. "We've been giving   
the patients antibiotics from the beginning and none of them have worked."

"It's the White," Julian said. "It's made from a fungus--a mushroom!   
That must be it. They knew that someone would think of using the White   
in a vaccine and cause it to mutate. The Neleh mushrooms must be very   
similar to the fungus the White comes from. If the aguaba trees have   
developed a resistance to it then that's why it--I have to go find   
Garak!" He headed for the door. "Okuna! Get some more of that wine, the   
new wine, and make sure everyone drinks at least 250 mils, even the   
children. Give the kids an antitox first."

He raised an eyebrow. "I could make up a hypo--"

Julian shook his head. "There's no time, and we don't know if it'll even   
work as an injection. You have enough new wine to go around?" he asked Hana.

"Of course," she said.

"Good; I want everyone started on it within twenty minutes."

Julian ran out of the room without looking back and hurried to Garak's   
cabin. Garak was behind his monitor speaking with a woman Julian assumed   
was Momo.

//The ships are moving in. I'm under cloak, but the Feddies still might   
catch wind of me. You ready to skin out?//

"The children are gathered in the school building. As soon as--"

"Garak! Wait! We found it!" Julian cried, catching his breath. "The   
cure--we've got it!"

Garak turned to him in surprise. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Call Figueiredo. Tell her to call off the ships."

Garak gave him another look, then turned back to his comm unit. "Stand   
by; something may have just come up."

//I heard,// Momo said with a grin. //Good luck, but if it doesn't pan   
out then I'll still be up here waiting on your scaly hide.//

"Much appreciated." Garak closed the connection, then paged Figueiredo's   
comm system. As soon as she appeared onscreen he said, "Captain, I have   
very good news for all of us. Just give me a moment and I'll put Dr.   
Bashir on to explain everything."

//Dr. Bashir?// Figueiredo looked at him expectantly.

He put his hand on Garak's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly as he   
launched into his explanation.

****

Krath sat at the table, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as he   
tasted the soup. "Delicious. So much so that I'm tempted to convince the   
doctor that I need a few more days of sick leave."

"Sorry, Minister, but I'm cutting you loose as of today," Julian said   
with a smile, sitting beside him.

Danna looked up at them. "Well, I'm just happy to be eating something   
from our own kitchens again. I know that replicated diet you had us on   
kept us alive, but the taste was--" He shuddered.

Julian shrugged. "It's funny," he said. "Everyone says that, but I   
honestly can't tell the difference."

Garak grinned at him. "Too many years of eating lunches at the Replimat."

"Probably."

Krath tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into the thick soup,   
eating it with relish. "Shakaar is going to regret missing this."

"When is he coming down?" Perreira asked as he reached for the salt.

"Not for another two hours; that's when the quarantine officially ends,"   
Julian replied. "He and Captain Sisko are coming down together once the   
Assembly adjourns for the day."

"I know Jake's looking forward to seeing him," Okuna said. "He's had a   
rough time of it."

Reven nodded. "I think that the hardest part for him is that the cure   
for the virus was right here the whole time. When he found out..."

"I tried to explain to him that we had no way of knowing that and he   
said he understood," Julian said, "but...well, let's just say I know how   
he feels. Part of me still blames myself for it."

"Doc, we couldn't possibly have known," Okuna said. "Hell, no one knew!   
It was just dumb luck."

"I disagree with you," Garak said. "Nothing that happened was due to   
luck. Everything we saw and went through was influenced by someone or   
something."

Julian nodded. "He's right. Like I told Jake, even if we knew about the   
phytoalexins before Ziyal died, her infection was so far advanced that   
she still wouldn't have survived, at least not as the person she was.   
Brain stem encephalitis isn't normally survivable at the best of times."

"It still sucks," Perreira said, stabbing at his salad. "Ziyal died for   
nothing."

"Not true," Danna interrupted. "Ziyal saved all of us. If she'd ignored   
the symptoms of her illness like the rest of us did, we would all be in   
comas now or worse."

"And then there's the baby," Girani pointed out. "She lived long enough   
so that her baby could be saved."

Okuna spoke up. "I've been keeping Dr. Emile informed about how well the   
artificial womb is doing. He's very excited about the results we're   
getting; the fetus is developing normally and so far we haven't had any   
major problems." He looked around the table. "Oscar is the youngest   
fetus ever to be transferred to a modified AW. If nothing else, Ziyal's   
legacy can be the fact that millions of fetuses around the quadrant   
might now have a chance of being saved because of this."

"Although I hate to bring up religion at a table full of scientists,   
might I also say that the Prophets had a hand in this as well," Danna   
said sagely. "To think that a tiny mushroom, a nuisance fungus that no   
one ever thought anything of, is responsible for so much is truly   
miraculous."

"He does have a point," Julian said. "If the Prophets are responsible   
for all this, then they couldn't have picked a better way to insure the   
Federation's interest in keeping Bajor safe then those plants. Think   
about it; aguaba trees and neleh mushrooms only grow on Bajor and only   
on this continent, and they could be the key to figuring out how to   
crack the White problem once and for all, which could turn Bajor into a   
major asset in the war against the Dominion." Everyone looked at him in   
shocked surprise. "What?"

"Are you getting religion, Doc?" Perreira asked.

"Let's just say I'm learning to keep an open mind," Julian said with a   
wide grin.

*****

Shakaar turned to Sisko as they disembarked from the runabout. "Go find   
your son, Ben. I'll meet with Krath and catch up with him and then we'll   
debrief the doctors together."

"Thank you," Sisko replied, following him as they walked through the   
gates of the monastery. "These last few weeks of not being able to see   
or speak to him--" He shook his head. "I hate that he had to go through   
all of this alone."

"You and I both survived losing our wives, Ben. Jake is strong, he'll   
pull through this."

"I still wish I could have been here."

"I know," he said. "Go find your boy, I'll be fine."

Ben nodded and headed toward the medical tent where Jake said he'd meet   
him. "Anyone here?" he called as he looked around at the rows of empty   
beds. One of the monks who was stripping the beds nodded towards a door   
near the back of the room. He walked up to it and knocked.

"Come in."

He stepped through the door to find his son sitting on a cot in a small,   
dark room, his eyes on a tall cylindrical machine in the corner. "Hey,   
dad," Jake said, rising from his chair.

"Son." Ben pulled him into a warm embrace. "I'm so sorry about Ziyal.   
You have no idea how much I wished I could have been here for you."

Jake nodded, not meeting his eyes as he let go of his father. "I know,"   
he said, "but there's nothing you could have done even if you had been   
here."

"I could have been here for you. You shouldn't have had to go through   
this alone."

"I wasn't alone, dad." Jake said with a sad smile. "A lot of people   
helped me and...this probably sounds crazy, but Ziyal's been with me   
too, in spirit." He looked into his father's eyes. "It's weird, but I   
can still feel her here with me; it's like she's watching over us both."

"Both?" Ben asked in confusion.

"I, um, I wanted to wait until you got here to tell you. There's someone   
you should meet." He walked over to the machine and turned on a monitor   
attached to the front of it. "Dad, this is Oscar. Your grandson."

"My--" Ben stared at the small image on the monitor in amazement. "My   
grandson?" The fetus kicked and moved about excitedly, almost as though   
he could sense that he was being watched. Ben reached out and touched   
the screen, tracing the face that looked so like his own son's when he   
had been in his mother's body. "Oscar?"

"After Grandpa," Jake said. "It was Ziyal's idea. Since she--since she   
died, I've spent a lot of time here, just watching him. It didn't seem   
like it at first, but now I know that as long as I have him I'll always   
have a piece of Ziyal, you know?"

"I know." He gathered Jake close again as his eyes filled with tears,   
willing the remarkable young man he had raised to feel all of the love   
he felt for him at that moment.

He eventually let go of Jake and looked back into his face. "My little   
boy is going to be a father."

"And you're going to be a grandfather," Jake said.

"A grand--" A lump rose in his throat. "I'm going to be a grandfather,"   
he whispered.

"And Grandpa is going to be a great-grandfather."

"He's not going to appreciate that," Ben said with a wince.

"I guess it's a good thing we named Oscar after him."

"It might help," Ben said, staring at the screen in amazement. "Hello,   
Oscar. It's your granddad."

The baby kicked just then, looking straight into their eyes as a warm   
feeling passed over both of them. It was as if Jennifer and Ziyal's   
spirits were with them as three generations of Siskos came together for   
the very first time.

Ben looked back up at his son. "I'm so proud of you, do you know that?"

Jake shrugged. "I only wish..."

"I know, Jake," he said. "I know."

****

"The Bajoran Assembly has voted to continue diplomatic relations with   
the Federation, but only by a narrow margin," Shakaar said to the   
medical personnel. "I can only hope the Emissary's address this   
afternoon helped repair some of the damage that was done in these last   
few weeks."

Sisko sighed. "Somehow I doubt Representative Kresti was impressed by my   
appearance, but in time I think we'll weather this. We've gone through   
worse."

"It will still be years before the Bajoran people consider joining the   
Federation after this--"

"I'm not sure if I blame them," Julian said.

"--but we've agreed to sign an agreement with the Federation to allow   
them to research this substance your team discovered," Shakaar   
continued. "Professor O'Brien and her team are planning to come down   
within a few days and collect samples." He looked around the room. "In   
addition, the Bajoran government would like to offer all of you their   
heartfelt thanks. We're planning to have an awards ceremony at the   
capital in a few days in your honor."

"Cool!" Perreira said, looking around at his colleagues with a grin.   
"Eva might just forgive me for quitting my job once I tell her I'm   
getting an award."

"About that," Sisko said, "I need to mend bridges between us as well.   
All of you are hereby reinstated, including you, Dr. Bashir, with   
commendations."

"Thank you, sir," Bashir began, "but--"

"Not to worry: I've spoken with Admirals Gilhouley and Quinn and your   
suspension will be voided and removed from your record. In addition, I   
am promoting you to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Congratulations,   
doctor: you've more than earned it."

"Wow, congrats, doc!" Perreira said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You deserve it, Julian," Girani said with a grin. "See, I told you it   
would all work out."

"Yeah, and you know what an optimist Girani is," Okuna snorted.

Julian spoke up. "Sir, thank you, but I'm afraid I have to decline."

"What?" Sisko scowled as the rest of the medical team turned to him in   
shock. "Doctor--"

"Sir, I fully intend to continue my research, but I've already made a   
commitment to head the Bajoran IDC," Julian said politely. "Although I   
do want to continue to be an asset to the Federation in whatever way I   
can, my place is here." He looked pointedly toward Garak, who was   
sitting by his side.

"Are you sure about that, doctor?" Sisko asked. "If this is about a   
personal commitment, then I assure you that something can be worked   
out." He turned to the Cardassian. "Mr. Garak, you are more than welcome   
to return to the station as well. Admiral Gilhouley has agreed to   
reinstate your application to join Starfleet, should you wish it."

"That is a kind offer, sir, but I have made a home here," Garak replied.   
"I will continue to aid the war effort in whatever way I can, and in   
future that may include occasionally returning to the station, but this   
is where I belong."

He turned to Shakaar. "What is it with this place? I keep losing all my   
best officers to this monastery."

"It's the food, Captain," Perreira said, causing several of his   
colleagues to stifle their snickers.

"In that case, I probably shouldn't stay for dinner," Sisko said dryly.   
He looked to Julian and Garak. "The offer stands. Both of you are   
welcome to return should your circumstances change."

"Thank you, sir," Julian said gratefully.

"You mentioned Admiral Gilhouley," Garak said. "I take it he has taken   
over Admiral Ross's duties?"

"Admiral Gilhouley has taken command of both this sector and the seventh   
fleet," Sisko replied.

"What about Ross and MacKelroy? Are they going to get away with it or   
what?" Girani asked.

"Commander MacKelroy," Sisko said with a quick glance at Shakaar, "will   
receive a reduction in rank and face other possible disciplinary actions   
for his part in the breakdown in relations between the Federation and   
Bajor. Admiral Ross's story is that MacKelroy overstepped his bounds   
when he saw an opportunity for advancement. He also claimed he had no   
knowledge of any of the events which occurred while MacKelroy was in   
command of the station. The Admiral has accepted early retirement   
because of this, and his record will reflect that."

Julian almost opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp look from Garak   
stopped him. He was right, but it still ate at him. Two of the men   
responsible for nearly killing every man, woman and child on Bajor had   
received nothing more than a slap on the wrist. He wasn't a conspiracy   
theorist, but even he could see that Section 31 probably had a hand in   
that as well.

Sisko's voice intruded into his thoughts. "With that said, I'll expect   
all of you back on duty by tomorrow. If you'll excuse me, I want to go   
visit with my son and grandson for a little while longer before I leave.   
First Minister, Minister Krath." Both men nodded as he left the infirmary.

"Dr. Bashir, Brother Elim," Shakaar said as he rose from his seat, "if   
you wouldn't mind joining us in Minister Krath's cabin, there are a few   
things we still need to go over."

"Of course," Julian said, rising from his seat. "I'll see you lot later."

"Doctors, Mr. Perreira." Garak inclined his head to them politely before   
following the group out.

"Well, I'm officially off duty for the rest of the day," Perreira said,   
getting up. "If you'll excuse me."

"Hot date?" Okuna asked.

"Only with a fishing pole. Brother Lum said he'd show me around one of   
the ponds."

"I hope you're not responsible for catching our dinner," Girani said   
with a smirk. "Otherwise we'll be eating out of the replicators again   
tonight."

"Just for that, you're getting the leftover bait. Bye, guys."

"Well, I still have clinic duty," Okuna said with a sigh.

"I'll stay and help you," Girani said.

"You don't have to."

She shrugged. "I still have a few things to catch up on anyway, and I   
want to check on the baby."

"Suit yourself," he said, busying himself by picking up a PADD and   
walking over to the medicine cabinet. "Krath said he's leaving the   
medical scanners and equipment, by the way. He also said his company is   
donating funds to the order so they can expand. Reven told me that Danna   
is going to talk to the head of their order about the possibility of   
asking Bajoran Family Services to transfer the rest of the hybrid   
orphans here. I thought that was nice of him; from what Doc Bashir told   
me about some of the other orphanages, they'd sure be happier here."

"Very nice."

"This is a great place," he said, looking around. "I guess since Dr.   
Bashir and Garak are getting along again they won't need to assign him   
another liaison. I'll probably be spending most of my time on the   
station again."

"Maybe you can look your old girlfriend back up."

"Alita?" he asked. "Nah, I'm over her."

She sighed. "Good for you."

"I have someone else in mind anyway. What about you? Are you staying   
behind to monitor the fetus?"

"Dr. Bashir can handle it." She began to sort through a box of medical   
supplies.

"I'll bet your, um, friend will be glad to see you when you return."

"My friend?" She turned to him with a frown. "What in the name of the   
Prophets are you talking about?"

"Your friend--girlfriend, whatever. The person you're involved with on   
the station."

"I don't have a girlfriend," she said, turning back to her work.

"Oh. Well, from what you said the other day, I just assumed--"

"Are we getting personal, Okuna?" Girani asked, turning back to him again.

"A little, yeah."

"For your information, my last 'friend' and I broke up several months ago."

"What was her name?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity."

She shot him a look. "Melinna."

"Melinna...wait, isn't she--?"

"A dabo girl," Girani admitted. "Go on, rub it in Okuna. I know you're   
dying to."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Right," she bit out.

"So you're not dating anyone then?"

"Did I just not say that?"

"So..." Okuna licked his lips nervously. "Do you want to go out   
sometime? With me?"

She glared at him. "What?"

"On a...date?"

"You're asking me out on a date."

"Why not?" he said, squaring his shoulders. "So? Do you want to go out   
with me or not?"

"You said you didn't want to be my, and I quote, 'boytoy', end quote."

"I didn't offer to fuck you stupid, Girani," he muttered. "I offered to   
buy you a burger or something! Jesus, forget I said anything."

She stared at the top of his head for a moment. "Okay, but I don't want   
a hamburger. I want a real meal at a real restaurant and *you* pick up   
the tab. And that restaurant better not be Quark's," she added.

He looked up. "You serious?"

"Why not?" she asked, lifting her head defiantly.

"Okay, sure. Yeah."

"But when we're on duty I still outrank you, understood?" she said   
sternly, jabbing a finger in his direction.

"Absolutely." He turned back to his work. After a few minutes, an idea   
popped in his head that caused him to break out in a goofy grin. "So,   
now that we're officially dating..."

"Yes?"

"Maybe after dinner we can go to my place and, um, I could take another   
shot at that boytoy gig."

"Are you buying me dessert?" Girani asked in a serious tone.

"Uh, sure."

"In that case I'll think about it," she said, turning her back to him   
once more.

He grinned again. "I can work with that."

*****

After the four men entered the cabin, Shakaar invited them to sit.   
"Minister Krath and I have been discussing the situation," he began,   
"and I would like to offer the two of you a proposal."

Krath shifted on the couch until he was able to face them both. "We are   
aware of what really happened. We know about Section 31's involvement in   
the production of the virus and we know what the Federation was planning   
to do to Bajor."

"You know?" Julian asked. "But how?" He turned to Garak. "Did you--?"

"Brother Elim didn't have to tell us, doctor," Shakaar said. "We do have   
our resources outside of Bajor. Besides, it's very hard to keep a secret   
in politics."

"Unfortunately, Bajor is still undergoing reconstruction from the   
Occupation," Krath continued. "Our government is still in the building   
stages and we have no formal intelligence agency." He stole a glance at   
Shakaar out of the corner of his eye. "When the Resistance broke up   
after the Occupation, most of our experienced operatives either went   
back to their old lives or they became politicians. And as the First   
Minister said, it's hard to trust a fellow politician."

"We want you to head up a covert intelligence agency within the Bajoran   
government," Shakaar said, looking directly at Garak. "The existence of   
this agency would be on a need-to-know basis only. No one outside of the   
four of us even knows about the possibility of this agency yet."

"Nor can anyone outside of this room know, at least for now, that we're   
considering it. If anyone in the Ministry knew about this, Shakaar and I   
would both be removed from office. The fact that we're planning on   
putting a Cardassian in charge--no offence--"

"None taken," Garak said.

"--well, we'd probably be strung up on the nearest aguaba tree," Krath   
finished.

"What kind of agency were you thinking about?" Garak asked.

Shakaar looked him in the eye. "Section 31 very nearly ended the   
existence of every Bajoran on this planet. We need to protect ourselves."

"You want us to spy on the Federation?" Julian asked in confusion.

"I want you to protect Bajor," he said. "I still believe that joining   
the Federation should be our long-term goal, but I'm not so naive as to   
believe that Section 31 or some other covert agency won't try something   
similar again. If this neleh fungus can be used to imitate White..."

"...Bajor could be in danger from the Dominion as well," Julian finished.

"We also can't turn a blind eye to the fact that the Federation still   
refuses to even acknowledge Section 31's existence," Krath said. "Their   
handling of this Commander MacKelroy and his superior, Admiral Ross, is   
a testament to that. It may have been politic of them to give them   
nothing but a slap on the hand, but it doesn't instill much confidence   
in either of us that they've stopped meddling in Bajor's affairs."

"I noticed that there was also no mention of either the interrogation   
tactics of Captain Figueiredo's crew or of the dead operative, Sloan,"   
Garak said. "I suspect Section 31 may be involved with more than merely   
black ops."

"You think they might be working overtly?" Julian asked him.

Krath nodded. "We came to the same conclusion."

"If you would like to decline, then all we ask is that you not mention   
this conversation to anyone," Shakaar said. "We know you both to be men   
of honor and you have both saved Bajor too many times to count. But if   
you do decide to do this, you will not be alone. Minister Krath and I   
will ensure that you have all the resources you need."

"The donations I plan to make to the monastery will be much larger than   
the Assembly members will imagine," Krath said, "and Shakaar intends to   
establish an official grant and trust for Dr. Bashir's Infectious   
Disease Center separate from the Ministry of Health."

"You want me as well?" Julian asked in surprise.

"That's why we invited you here."

"Do you need a moment to discuss this?" Krath offered.

"No," Julian said, speaking carefully. "I've spent almost all of my   
adult life as a Starfleet officer in the service of the Federation, and   
I do consider myself loyal to its people and its ideals, but this   
Section 31...it has to be stopped, and Bajor has to be protected." He   
turned to Garak. "I made my decision when I gave up my commission that   
my place was here at your side. If you want to do this, then I'd like to   
help."

"Offer accepted, doctor," Garak said as he turned to Shakaar. "I presume   
we won't be the lone operatives of this organization."

"No, but we'll leave the picking of the agents to you. We have some   
suggestions, though," Shakaar turned to Krath.

"I was thinking that you might want to start within the Bajora Communion   
itself," the Deputy Minister suggested. "Keep the operation here so as   
not to attract undue attention."

"I agree," Garak replied. "I'd also like to involve Vedek Merel if I   
may, as well as a few other former Resistance members within my   
acquaintance. The people I have in mind would not look the least bit out   
of place if they had to come to the monastery personally."

"Merel was actually on my short list of potential contacts," Shakaar   
said, nodding in approval. "In addition to being a damned shrewd woman   
she also has contacts with the Shadow Ministry."

"Shadow Ministry?" Julian asked with a frown.

"It's full name is the Ministry of the Shadow of the Eye of the   
Prophets," Krath explained. "They're the investigative branch of the   
Bajora Communion. Their purpose is to weed out heretics and pah-wraith   
worshipers within the religious body, but quite a few of them were once   
in Intelligence during the Occupation."

"Pah-wraith worshippers?" Julian repeated.

"There were once those on Bajor who worshipped the pah-wraiths," Garak   
said. "They no longer exist, but the Ministry does. Nowadays it mostly   
serves as the Communion's police force."

"I suppose if I'm going to be living in a monastery I should start   
boning up on their belief system," Julian said with a crooked grin.

Krath rose to his feet. "The First Minister and I have to head back to   
the capital but I will be contacting you again soon. I'll also be   
visiting you often." He turned to Shakaar. "Our official story to   
explain my frequent visits will be that the virus damaged my immune   
system and, as Dr. Bashir is the foremost expert on the virus in the   
galaxy, I have put myself under his care."

"It'll also place a buffer between the office of the First Minister and   
ourselves," Garak noted as the rest of them rose.

"Exactly," Shakaar said. "From here on out I will have to keep my   
contacts with you both to a minimum so we don't attract any attention."

"And on a personal note," Krath said as he shook their hands, "I want to   
thank you both. For everything."

"Thank you, First Minister; Deputy Minister," Garak said. "If you'll   
excuse us."

"We'll see you at the capital in a few weeks," Julian said as he   
followed Garak out.

As they walked toward Garak's cabin at a leisurely pace, Garak turned to   
him, the corners of his lips turned up in amusement. "So after years of   
holoprograms and such, you have finally become a spy."

"Yes, I suppose I have," he said with a chuckle. "It still doesn't seem   
real. If you had told me a year ago that I would be a spy for Bajor I   
would have said you were mad."

"And if I had been told I was destined to become a monk in a Bajoran   
monastery I would have been equally skeptical."

"Life has taken some odd turns lately," Julian mused. "I never imagined   
it would turn out like this."

"Hmm," Garak nodded. "And what about us?"

"What about us?"

"If someone had said a year ago that we would eventually become lovers,   
what would you have said?"

"Not a damned thing," he said with a broad smile. "That I would have   
believed."

"Oh really?" Garak said with an arched eyeridge.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?" Julian asked, with a lascivious   
look.

"I believe that could be--"

"Dr. Julian! Elim!" Kela shouted as she ran toward them, Lewin close behind.

Julian grunted as Kela launched herself in his arms. "Good grief! For a   
little thing you weigh a ton!"

"I do not!" she said defensively as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Brother Lum said they weren't going to start school back until next   
week. Can we go on another picnic tomorrow?" Lewin asked, looking up at   
Garak.

"Why not?" Garak said, smiling down at him and placing an affectionate   
arm around his shoulders. "After all, the first one was interrupted as I   
recall," he said to Julian.

He grinned. "Sounds good to me. I could use a good picnic right about   
now." He put Kela down. "Now what do you suppose we should pack for our   
picnic tomorrow, young lady?"

"Pie!" she said. "And lots of sandwiches!"

"But not the kind with the boiled fish," Lewin said with a grimace. "I   
don't think I'm ready for any more of those yet."

Kela ran toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna go see if they'll make us some   
cookies for tomorrow, too!" she shouted over her shoulder.

"Hey! Wait up!" Lewin shouted, running behind her.

"Rain check?" Julian asked.

"Absolutely." Garak agreed.


	14. Dreams and Doorways

EPILOGUE: Dreams and Doorways

 

Julian looked around in confusion. He was standing in the middle of the  
promenade wearing...he looked down at himself...his old uniform. That  
was very odd, especially since the last thing he remembered wearing was  
a smile, the remnants of his and Garak's lovemaking, and little  
else--unless he counted the bed linens. This had to be a dream.

There was some movement beside him and he turned to look. "Oh. Hi. Well,  
at least I'm sure now that this is going to be a good dream," he said,  
wiggling his eyebrows comically. "Care to fulfill a fantasy I've always  
had about the back room of your old shop, Mr. Garak?"

"As wonderful as that sounds, my dear, I don't think we're dreaming,"  
Garak said, looking around the empty station with a frown.

"Well I'm dreaming, but I don't know if you are."

"I'm not, and neither are you."

"How do you know?" Julian asked.

"Because I was trained in lucid dreaming and the only time I can't  
manage to wake myself up is during a night terror, of which this is not."

"This could be a night terror," Julian smirked, getting into the spirit  
of things.

"It's not," Garak said. "All of my uncontrollable night terrors begin  
the same way. I've never had this dream before."

"You know, there is this fascinating article on--ow!" He said, rubbing  
his arm where Garak had pinched him. "What did you do that for?"

"You just felt pain; how often do you do that in a dream?" Garak asked,  
looking around them with sharp blue eyes.

"Uh..."

"Exactly."

Julian, now feeling very uneasy, decided to test his companion's theory.  
"Come with me." He walked over to the nearby pastry stand and picked up  
a doughnut. He sniffed at it carefully and took a bite.

"What?" Garak asked, watching his reaction.

Julian put it down, suddenly feeling queasy. "I could taste it. Our  
minds will sometimes integrate pain into a dream, but not taste." He  
reached out and touched Garak's chest. "You're real as well."

"I realize that."

"Where are we? Were we kidnapped?" He looked around at the darkened  
promenade, noting that the names of all the shops. "This looks exactly  
like Deep Space Nine, only there are no people."

"I don't know."

"You weren't kidnapped, Elim. Not exactly."

"Tain?" Garak gasped, spinning around and rocking back on his heels in  
shock.

"It's a Founder," Julian said, getting into a defensive pose.

"I'm not a Founder," the being remarked. "It's really me, Elim."

"You're dead," Garak replied.

"Yes, I am." Tain cast his gaze around the Promenade. "As dead as a man  
can possibly be, but that's beside the point." He turned his slightly  
mocking smile to Garak once again. "I'm here to give you, both of you, a  
message."

"From whom?" Garak asked suspiciously.

"From the Prophets."

"Now I know you aren't Tain," Garak said, taking a step back.

The ghost chuckled. "Believe me, I know how it sounds, but I assure you  
that I am me, I am dead, and the Prophets have summoned me here to do  
their will. Ironic, isn't it?"

"I don't believe you."

"Oh come now, Elim! If you can find religion, why can't I?" Tain asked.  
"Of course, I had to wait until I was actually dead to find it, but  
still..."

"If the Prophets wanted to give us a message, why didn't they just do it  
themselves?" Julian asked.

"Oh, they're here. I'm just here to ease you into the process." His  
voice dropped to a confidential level. "They can be a bit difficult to  
understand even under the best of circumstances. Also, unlike Captain  
Sisko, you are both fairly skeptical toward these sorts of things. The  
Prophets decided that you might understand better if you had someone  
familiar to help you."

"So you're our interpreter?" Garak asked, still looking at him askance.

"Of a sort." Tain frowned and cocked his head slightly, as though he was  
hearing something they could not. "Ah. Very well, then." He looked at  
them each in turn. "They're about to begin. I'd like to apologize ahead  
of time; the Prophets, in my experience thus far, tend to be  
somewhat...I suppose you could say theatrical in their approach."

"What--" Garak started, only to be cut short by a horrible roaring noise  
that reverberated throughout the station.

The two men fell back, automatically going into a protective stance as  
they moved closer together and back to back. Only Tain seemed unaffected  
as he stood beside them, watching the proceedings in mild amusement.

As they watched boards appeared from nowhere, sealing up the shop  
nearest them, then more, and still more until all the shops down one  
side of the Promenade were completely boarded up.

"Wait for it!" Tain said.

Just when the noise seemed to stop, a terrible rumbling began which  
caused the metal floor beneath their feet to vibrate. On the other side  
of the Promenade, sheets of metal appeared from no where, much like the  
wood from before. It slammed over the doors to the shops on the other  
side until all but three of them still stood.

"There's more," Tain assured them. "You'll like this one."

Fire burst up from beneath the floor and singed the metal covering the  
doors to their right. On the left, the floors began to shake and debris  
fell from the ceiling. The each covered their heads instinctively as the  
station seemed to fall apart. When it was done, the promenade was a  
vision of chaos with fire and chunks of metal and wiring everywhere.

"I told you they could be dramatic," Tain said with a smile.

"What is this all about?" Julian asked, coughing as the dust from the  
destruction invaded his lungs.

"It's about choices." He gestured to the three shops which were as of  
yet untouched.

They picked their way carefully through the damage, following the  
specter of Tain (who seemed to move through the rubble effortlessly)  
until they reached the unaffected shops.

"Now what?" Julian asked.

"I suppose we choose a door and walk through it," Garak mused, but when  
he stepped forward Jadzia Dax appeared out of nowhere, blocking his way.

Only it wasn't Jadzia.

"Dax? Julian moved toward her, horrified.

Her skin was pale and drawn and her eyes had the slightly sunken quality  
of a fresh corpse; a fine pattern of white electric burns marked her  
face and hands. "The Prophets have won the battle," she said to them in  
a hollow voice, "but the war may still be lost."

"What happened to you?" Julian breathed.

"In war, there is always loss," she said, gesturing to the open door.  
"This way is now closed to you." She stepped into the doorway and  
turned, facing them. As they watched the door slammed shut and the  
entire station again began to shake, debris caving in the ceiling until  
the door was completely covered.

"What the hell is this?" Julian demanded.

"Papa?"

Julian looked down at a small redheaded girl of around three or four who  
was standing in front of the second door. "Excuse me?" he said, blinking.

"It's over, Papa!" she said with an enormous smile. "You did it!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are," Julian said in confusion.

She giggled. "Silly Papa! It's me, Molly!"

"Molly?" Julian stepped forward. "I'm afraid that you're confused. I  
don't--"

From the open door of the shop, Keiko O'Brien stepped out. Molly  
O'Brien skipped ahead of her and reached for the younger girl's hand.  
The two of them began to giggle as they spun around in a circle.

"Keiko, what--?"

"The battle is won, but the war continues," Keiko said with a serene smile.

Julian shook his head. "I don't understand."

"It's over, Papa! You beat them!" the redheaded girl said as she and  
Molly O'Brien went round and round.

"But we had to go away, right, mommy?" Molly said, looking to Keiko.

"We never arrived," Keiko said to Julian. Sometimes to preserve the  
future, the past must be sacrificed."

Suddenly the rumbling began again. Keiko and the girls walked into the  
shop just as the debris began to rain down on them.

"Keiko!" Julian started forward, fearing that his friend and the  
children would be crushed, but Garak held him back.

"They aren't real! They're just illusions! None of this is real!" Garak  
told him.

"We're real," a voice said.

"Kela?" Garak turned to the third door in shock. "Lewin, what--?"

"It's all right, Elim; we're fine," Kela said.

"For now, anyway," Lewin said, looking down at his sister. "But it's not  
over yet."

"What's not over? What does all this mean?" Garak said angrily.

Ziyal stepped out of the shadows. "Hello, Garak, Dr. Bashir."

"Ziyal?" Julian gasped.

"What is all of this?" Garak asked her, keeping on eye on his children  
who were standing in the door to the shop patiently.

She moved forward and took both of Garak's hands into hers. "Do you  
remember what the Founder told you, Garak? About the connection between  
the Founders and the Prophets and how in their prophesies there is a  
Bringer and a Destroyer?"

"Yes," he said, still looking lost.

"You're the one. You are the Bringer and the Destroyer. Both of you,"  
she said, smiling at Julian.

"The--which is which and what does that mean?" Julian asked.

She merely smiled again. "You're both. Both of you are both."

"You see, the Prophets don't live in just one dimension or time stream,"  
Tain said, moving to stand beside Ziyal. "There's a war being waged, not  
just in our dimension but in every dimension occupied by the Prophets."

Ziyal nodded. "In every timeline, somehow the two of you always hold a  
key role in whether or not the Prophets win or the Founders and the  
pah-wraiths succeed. In those dimensions," and she gestured to the shops  
across the promenade, "you failed."

"How?" Garak asked. "How did we fail?"

"All sorts of ways," Tain said with a sigh. "Mind you, it wasn't always  
your fault. In some timelines, I killed your mother before you were born  
like I'd planned; in others, Dr. Bashir wasn't genetically enhanced and  
lived his life out as a store clerk or a janitor. Sometimes one or both  
of you died young, and sometimes it was simply because you weren't where  
you were supposed to be."

"Julian didn't become a Starfleet doctor or you didn't come to Bajor,"  
Ziyal explained.

"But on this side," and with that Tain gestured to the three doors in  
front of them, "you've won." He put a hand on each of the children's  
shoulders, causing the siblings to look up at him with bright smiles.  
"The first two battles have already been won. This is the final battle:  
the one that will either win the war or lose it once and for all."

"How do we do that? What's going to happen? Tell us," Julian urged.

Ziyal just smiled serenely. "What makes this different from all the  
other times is that you are finally exactly where you're supposed to be,  
and nobody has come between you: not me, not Ezri Tigan, not Iliana  
Ghemor, not Miles O'Brien."

Julian's eyes widened.

"But that doesn't mean you can't still lose," Lewin said. "Right, Mr.  
Tain?"

"Exactly, son," Tain replied. "And Elim, Julian: if you do lose, the  
Prophets and everyone else will die."

"The pah-wraiths will take their revenge and the Founders will usher in  
a new age of hardship under their iron-fisted rule," Ziyal said sadly.  
"Don't give up. Keep going no matter what." She let go of Garak's hands  
and moved to join Tain and the children.

"It was good seeing you again, my boy!" Tain said jovially. "I wouldn't  
have thought so but those robes suit you."

"Tell Jake I love him and that I know he'll be a wonderful father to our  
son," Ziyal said.

Julian felt the world pull away and he began to shout, "Wait! You didn't  
tell us anything!"

The next thing Julian knew, he was sitting up in bed, his chest heaving,  
the bedsheets drenched in sweat.

"You had the same dream?" Julian asked Garak, who was staring at him,  
pale and apparently traumatized.

He nodded. "Tain and Ziyal on the promenade? Yes."

"What does it all mean?"

"I don't know," Garak said, leaning back against the headboard, his eyes  
filled with worry. "But whatever this task is that the Prophets have set  
out for us to complete, I have a feeling it will happen sooner rather  
than later."

THE END

 

End of The Garak/Bashir Mysteries

There are two supplemental stories in the series:

Kal-Toh; Seeds of Order; A Prequel

and 

You Look Good In Red; A Look Into The Future

But they do not have to be read to understand this series but you may enjoy them anyway.

Thanks!

\---Jen


End file.
